To Depart and Remain
by n0t0k
Summary: Izuku dies before All Might can save him from the sludge villain. Yet, despite this rather unfortunate setback, Izuku still manages to become a hero.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:**

 **When an end becomes a beginning. When the dead save the living. When the mourners are the mourned. When the reaper resurrects the reaped.**

 **Nothing is the same...**

 **... when the departed still remain.**

* * *

The boy was dead.

Now I know what you are going to ask. Who is this boy I speak of?

I do not know. I do not know who the boy was before his death. I do not know what its name was. I do not know what kind of person it was. I do not know what its dreams or aspirations were. I do not know what its likes or dislikes were. I do not know what its personality was like or what characteristics it had. There was nothing I knew of the boy before I came upon the scene.

And I do not care who it was before death.

Honestly, the whole living aspect of life never really peaked my interest. My job does not require me to need to know things such as a person's life. So I do not.

Besides, what is life really but the precursor to death. So why bother oneself over what once was but always ends? Life is temporary. Death is not.

That sounds really morbid, I know, but I cannot help it. All I have ever witnessed is death.

And this boy, no matter who it was before, is dead.

Its heartbeat has gone silent. The electrical currents in its neural passageways of its brain have stopped firing. Its diaphragm no longer contracts to force air into its lungs which were starved of oxygen long ago. Where blood once flowed freely through the veins and arteries, now a viscous slime invades and clogs up every crevice in the boy's body.

Yes. This child is most definitely, very obviously, and quite assuredly dead. I see its soul glowing above its body. It has already fled its physical vessel.

The soul is a gentle, green, glowing sphere of soft light that is unwavering despite its fragile appearance. A single white string keeps it tethered to the body, the last anchor this boy has with the physical world.

I step forward, quickly and efficiently severe the thin string. The soul is free. Now it is time to bring it to its last resting place. I call the soul to me. I have done this countless times and will continue to do it until all life ceases and death becomes obsolete. Every move I make is memorised, practiced, and familiar.

That is why I am a bit surprised when the soul refuses to answer my call. It stubbornly remains in its place no matter how I try to coax it to me.

But this is nothing knew, even if I was not expecting it. I have encountered many such souls who tarried after their strings had been cut.

Looking at the scene before me, I realise I should have expected it. In my experience it is always those souls which had an especially painful death that give me the most trouble. So strong was their last emotion that it carries over to death and lingers even after I cut them off from the world.

From the looks of the body I can see that this child had just been murdered by another of its own kind, one whose dark and muddied soul resides within a liquid slime form. The experience was probably very traumatic as I see signs of a struggle, suggesting that this death had been drawn out and therefore painful. It makes sense, therefore, that the boy's soul would hold some negative emotion to keep itself from finding peace right away.

Now that I have deduced the cause for the souls hesitation to relinquish itself to me, I wait. It will not take long. Whatever emotion the child had felt in its last moment (anger, fear, regret) will run its course quickly enough and fizzle out. Then I will be able to finish my job and go to my next appointment.

But as I wait the soul does nothing. The glowing sphere of green does not shrink within itself in fear. It does not soak and drip in grief. It does not thicken and sink down in guilt. It does not burn and rage in anger. It does nothing but float calmly and gently before me, giving every appearance of a soul at peace, ready for me to take into my embrace.

I must admit that I feel impatient at this point. My next appointment is coming quickly and if I do not make it then one of _others_ will have to fill in for me. I hate owing any of the _others_ favours. The _others_ feel the same way. Having to return favours can be very annoying, especially when the debt could potentially interfere with one's schedule. I have everything planned out perfectly for the next millennia. Imagine how just one favour could ruin my whole schedule? I would have to rework everything to make it all fit again.

So no, missing an appointment is not an option.

That is why I decide to reach out to the soul. In my experience this is always an unwise move. The moment I come in contact with these lingering souls they always lash out at me. Sometimes, like now, it is necessary as touching them causes them to burn up their emotion faster- even if it is painful and makes the rest of the journey uncomfortable for us both.

I used to wonder why human souls reacted to my presence like this. From my long experience and having witnessed many humans deaths I have come to the conclusion that humans think that I am death.

I am not death. I am just the janitor that has to clean up after life.

And now, I need to focus on my job.

The moment I touch the soul I know that I have woefully misunderstood this entire situation. Instead of burning me with anger or attempting to drown me with its despair, the soul flashes white and then morphs and stretches before me until it has taken on a form not unlike the boy's earthly vessel.

Its hair is wild and unkempt. Freckles speckle across its pale cheeks and the bridge of its nose. The child's stature is small and frame thin while its hands and feet seem a bit too large for its petite frame, something common in adolescents as I have come to notice. But what draws my attention immediately are its eyes. They are impossibly large.

Its new form is faded, dim and almost transparent. But the eyes are not. They are impossibly huge and its pupils glow brightly like two green flames flickering with life.

Which is impossible. It is dead. There should be no imitation of life in those eyes.

This has never happened before.

I am so utterly at a loss for what to do.

I feel myself panicking. If I do not figure this out soon I am going to miss my appointment. Everything is unraveling before me. I will have to let the _others_ know and then all of my careful planning and scheduling will be undone.

Why is this happening to me?

"Who are you?" The boy asks.

Once again I have no idea what to do. I have never had to tell anyone who I was before. The dead are not usually this alive to ask me that and the living never notice me, too focused on the presence of death to pay attention to a humble errand boy.

Before I can come up with an answer the boy seems to have noticed the commotion going on below it. I look as well. It is a grisly scene. The slime human has almost completely taken over the boy's old body. Sludge oozing inside and around the small rigid frame in a grotesque manner.

The boy gasps and tries to move toward its empty body. I assume it wanted to stop the monster, though I do not know how it could have achieved that when it had no power to stop this sludge human even when alive. The boy is surprised and distressed when it passes right through the physical bodies of both living and dead humans.

It turns to me now- eyes wide and full of desperation. At least I think it is desperation. I have only ever payed attention to what emotions look like on the souls I collect. So seeing desperation in its eyes is different than seeing it play out on a soul. I do recognise the way the emotion makes the green in its pupils glint and skip about frantically just as its soul would have if it were still in its spherical form.

And yet, mixed in with that desperation is something lighter, brighter, and uncomfortably still. It's an emotion I do not recognise. I feel a weight come to rest over me as if the boy had just given me something precious and now it is my responsibility to keep it safe and alive.

I am going to fail. I just know it.

"P-please, can y-you help me?" The boy speaks in a voice that sounds so broken and scared.

"No." I answer. "I cannot."

"W-why?" Its voice is dripping with too many emotions for me to identify.

"You are already dead." I say.

And with that the bright spark it had entrusted to me winks out and I am surprised at how much I miss it. No one has ever directed such a positive emotion at me before. A part of me wishes I knew what name humans call it. I want to see it again.

Now, though, the boy's eyes have been dampened by grief and the inner light dimmed by cold resignation. It begins to cry and I sense its grief. The child's eyes are literally dripping, a shining clear substance leaking from them as it sobs.

I think this is what most humans do when they see the body of a soul I just reaped. I always assumed the leaking was because of some failed function in the souls chosen vessel. Now I see that such leaking is because of the soul itself and was never the fault of a broken body.

Who knew souls could cry.

"I-I'm s-s-s-so sorry mama." The boy says between its sobs. "P-please don't be too s-sad."

The child's mother is not here so I do not know who it is talking to.

It is at this moment that another human being appears, stepping out of a whole in the ground with a flash of light and a bright smile. This human has a strong and powerful soul- yet I can feel how weak its remaining life force is. It will not be long for this world. Who knows, it just might be one of the souls assigned to me. I do not make it a point to know which souls are on my list. I just know where and at what time I need to be to collect them.

I hope I will not have to reap this man's soul. I do not like to know what souls where like before they lost their physical connections to the world.

The human is smiling and declaring in a loud voice that everything is alright now, "Why? Because I am…"

I do not get to hear the rest of the sentence because the man stops when it sees the cold and stiff body that once belonged to the boy. The slime human has nearly hidden all of itself within the small frame and perhaps if given a few more minutes it would have been able to successfully hide within the dead body and get away from this bright human. But slime still covers the outside of the boy's old vessel and there is no mistaking the human's escape attempt, or the boy's death.

Next there is anger. Boiling, raging, righteous anger. There is a fight in which the man quickly, efficiently, and mercilessly defeats the slime human. Then there is guilt and tears and sobbing as the powerful and bright man cries and apologises over and over for not getting there in time, for not saving the boy.

This is a scene I am more familiar with. I do not see it all the time, but it happens enough that I am no longer interested in watching it play out again. I do not understand why humans are always so grieved by death. Do they not know that this is a completely normal outcome? Everything alive dies.

The boy watches the whole thing play out, though. And when the man begins to cry, it rushes to the man's side. I note that it seems to have figured out how to move around now.

"I-It's not your f-fault All Might." The boy tries to comfort the man. Its hand goes right through the man who promptly shivers as if a chilly wind had just passed by. Besides that the man is completely ignorant of the child it is grieving for.

"You tried to s-save me!" The boy continues to try and comfort this 'All Might. Does it not realise yet it cannot be heard? "You tried a-and that means a lot to me, really! Please don't b-blame yourself. I-if anyone is to blame it's me. I wasn't able to hold on long enough… or do anything. I… I couldn't even save myself. This is all my fault."

Then, in a quieter tone I am barely able to pick up, it whispers. "I really am a worthless Deku."

While all of this is interesting to watch -I have never witnessed the dead try and comfort their own mourners- time for me has run out. I have to go now. If I do not solve this issue right now I will miss my appointment. But what do I do? Should I just leave? Abandon this job only half done? It is tempting. Leave now and forget about this boy. No one can say I did not try to finish my job. It is not like I could just take the fully formed soul with me.

Or could I?

Why not? It would actually be the perfect solution. I could continue on with my work while also keeping the boy close so that when the soul is ready and has lost this awareness it seems to have I can finish my job and bring it to its final resting place.

Who knows. Maybe this is what I am supposed to do.

Decision made I move forward and touch the boy's shoulder. Huge, piercing green eyes look up at me and I am startled at how the dripping liquid pooling in its eyes just makes them shine brighter.

"Is it time?" The child asks, hand wiping across its eyes in what I guess is an attempt to wipe away the tears.

I am not quite sure what it means, but I answer anyway. "Yes." It is time for my next appointment, though I doubt that is what the boy meant.

"Okay," the boy's voice shudders even as it draws itself up to its full height (which isn't much, especially in comparison to my own towering size) and squares its shoulders. "I-I think I'm ready."

Is it? Has its soul run through the course of whatever leftover emotions carried through from life?  
A bit relieved, I call the soul. The light of its eyes flashes, but otherwise there is no other response. The soul does not come to me.

So it is not ready then. I am a bit disappointed, but this does not change my previous plan.

I reach out and take the boy's hand. Then we are gone.

It was time for my next appointment.

* * *

 **First Chapter - - - Kill off main character.**

 **...**

 **...**

 **Check.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: In which Katsuski skips the first stage of grief and jumps right into the second.**

* * *

The sun was bright, sending rays of golden light down upon the bustling city as it began its decline in the sky. Fluffy clouds listlessly floated across a deep blue sky. A gentle breeze carries soft pink petals that twist and dance in the air.

Everything was perfect. Beautiful.

Katsuki fucking hates it all.

He's walking. He doesn't know where to. Not that he fucking cares anyway. He just needs to move, to do something besides sit in that small dismal house full of all those fucking pretenders and their fake tears and stupid ass dramatics.

None of them actually care about fucking quirkless Deku. He knows they don't because when he was alive none of them even knew he fucking existed.

Stupid Deku. Stupid fucking Deku. Such a useless piece of shit. Couldn't even save himself from a fucking lame sludge creep. Hell to that slimy fuck-ass too. Katsuki hopes the creep rots in the pits of hell forever. He and Deku are at fault for this. But Katsuki doesn't know the villain. He does know Deku, though. So most of his rage is directed at the worthless shit went and got himself killed, leaving his mom to break into a thousand pieces.

And that's another reason he can't fucking stand that place one more minute. Oba-san won't stop crying. Tears fill her eyes and fall down her cheeks like a waterfall. But she doesn't make a sound. She is trying to hold it in, to play host for all of those shitty pretenders. And she's doing it. She's pretending to not be broken as shit inside and holding herself together despite how completely shattered she is. Stupid lady is even smiling.

His mom is back there too. He's never seen the bitch so subdued.

Worthless Deku. Who does he think he is causing Oba-san and his mom so much pain?

If he had just had a quirk- even if it was something stupid like the quirks of all the extras. But he didn't. Useless Deku was just that. Useless. He wasn't even as stupid as the extras with their worthless quirks. He was lower than worthless.

And now he is dead.

A shadow falls across his face and Katsuki looks up to see a bridge. His body freezes as he realises where his feet had taken him.

This is where Deku died.

They were friends once, before his quirk presented itself. Deku was weak even then, soft and small and way too fragile. But he wasn't an extra like the others. Deku kept challenging him. He wanted to be as great a hero as Katsuki. He wanted to have as cool a quirk as Katsuki. He wanted to be as strong as Katsuki.

And he had the guts to back it up too- even if he did stutter and cry a lot like a fucking wimp. But Oba-san cries too and Katsuki would never trick himself into thinking she was weak. His mom is scarier, but only by a little.

That is why they were friends. Because Deku wasn't like all the other extras who just wandered listlessly through life. He was actually going places just like Katsuki, to become more than just the drivil of lame meat bags filling society. He had drive and determination.

Then they all found out Deku wasn't ever going to get a quirk. All of Deku's courage, determination, guts. It suddenly meant nothing. Because he was nothing.

But that is not right. Yeah he was fucking worthless and useless. But Katuski now sees that he was something even without a quirk. He was alive.

And now he's not.

Heat is building up in his palms and Katsuki feels himself shaking with rage.

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!" Katsuki screams, right fist flying forward and slamming into the wall of the underpass. Explosions crack and popple from his palm and fire and light burst forth with his furry. The release feels good. But it's not enough.

Katsuki doesn't know how long he punches the mortar. It's dark by the time he makes his way back home. His skin has split around the knuckles, the joints of his hand hurt, and his muscles of his arm burn. The smell of smoke, nitroglycerin, and sweat clings to him like fucking leaches to tender flesh.

Under the bridge there is a dark ash staining a cracked and crumbling wall.

* * *

 **Uuuuugh… Writing down Katsuki's rather colourful vocabulary was sooooo hard.**

 **You'll probably laugh, but I just gotta say that I am not someone who swears- EVER. The closest thing I get to swearing is 'darn it' (I know you're all rolling your eyes at me!).**

 **So saying or writing curse words is painful to me because it's just so vulgar and makes me want to wash my mind out with soap!... Which has proven rather impossible. Ugh.**

 **But Katsuki isn't Katsuki without some (a LOT of) swearing. So your all welcome.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summery: It's Bring-Your-Ghost-Child-To-Work Day! Also, Izuku tries to get answers… Key word being _tries_.**

* * *

"Why is her s-soul yellow?"

The question tumbles out of the boy's mouth the moment we arrive in a crowded hospital room where a bright yellow sunburst of a soul hovers over the body of an old woman.

It had not taken me very long to learn that the boy never seemed to stop asking questions.

"I do not know." I quickly take in the large group of teary eyed people, the cards and flowers decorating the room, and the gentle smile that graces the now empty body. This woman had a peaceful death so I do not have to worry about any negative emotions.

I have been particularly anxious about that ever since the boy. It turns out having a human soul tag along with me wherever I go is very distracting, especially when it will not stop talking. I do not want to add on anymore. One is already too much.

"I thought at first that it m-might represent a person's eye colour." The boy starts talking again, floating closer to the yellow soul to inspect it. "Mine is green and you said b-before that my soul had been green, r-right? But her eyes" it points to a picture by her bed, "were blue. So souls aren't represented by eye colour. Perhaps then th-the colour represents a person's quirk! I didn't have one so does that mean that green represents quirkless souls? Of course, the colour of a soul could have to do with a person's character. Or is it more about what they were feeling right before they died? With all of her family around and how much they all seem to care about her, . ."

I am not actually sure what all it is saying. The boy tends to mumble a lot.

It is all so different from before where I just stepped in, did my job, and stepped out and onto my next appointment. Now every job becomes a chore as the boy somehow manages to find more questions to ask. You would think it would run out of questions or things to say, but a week (according to the boy. It keeps track of the days. I have never had need to pay attention to human's passage of time) has already passed and I see no end to its talking.

I come up to the soul and snap its last tether, the white string flashing in the setting sun shining through the window behind us before it disappeared. I begin to call to the soul.

"I n-noticed that you always start singing right before you absorb the souls. What are y-you singing? Is it an incantation? I don't think it is because it d-doesn't sound like you are using words. It's more like a melody. My guess is that you have to sing in order to absorb the souls, but why? Why singing? Also, if singing is supposed to accomplish the same thing every time why is the tune always different? It would make sense if the song was different because each soul different. That would mean only certain songs would work on certain souls. Or perhaps it is more like each soul has it's own song. If that is the case then how do you know each soul's song? Is there a way to tell? Maybe it has to do with their colo-"

I am only half listening to the boy. My main focus is the soul which I am pleased to see response immediately to my call and comes to me. Once that is done I turn to the boy and interrupt its mumbling before it gets unintelligible. "I am calling to them, not singing."

"It always s-sounds like you're singing." The boy remarks.

"I do not know what singing is. I am calling them. When they respond they come to me."

"O-oh, okay." The boy's face scrunches up as it takes in this new information. I do not think it finds my answers very satisfactory. "But then w-why is your call d-different every time?"

I think about this for a moment, then nod to the boy. "You were right before in your string of words." The child's cheeks take on a red hue. "Each soul has only one call it will resonate to. I must use their call in order for them to respond."

"How do you know which call is the soul's?" It asks.

"I just do."

I know my answer does not satisfy the boy, but it stops asking questions so I think I did well enough. The child now turns its attention to the hospital room, mumbling about everything it notices.

I appreciate hospitals. It makes my job easier when most of my appointments are in the same building. Sadly I only have one appointment in this hospital today and the next is rather far away. That means I will have to drop this soul off before my next appointment.

"It is time to go." I tell the boy.

"Yeah, o-okay." It nods and begins to move back toward me, but hesitates. It looks wistfully back into the sunlit room where humans are still crying.

"I-I know it's sad." The boy says in a soft tone. "But I can't help a-and think how b-beautiful this moment is for everyone. You can just tell that they all love her s-so much. The fact that everyone gathered to say goodbye is wonderful. Her children and grandchildren, her whole legacy was here to send her off. I think it's poetic, you know? None of them would exist without her so it's only right that they are here to honor her last moments. And even though everyone is sad there is a kind of peace in the room as if no one feels regret or guilt."

I look at the people around the empty body and notice that the boy is right about everything. They are all related to the woman who now peacefully floats in my grasp. They all are feeling sadness, but there is peace and tranquility nestled in their souls.

I can see their souls. The boy, as far as I can tell, cannot. It only seems to see souls once they have left their vessel. So I find it impressive that it managed to garner all that information just by noticing the outer appearance of the humans here. I am coming to learn that the boy is very observant and keen on seeing detail.

I allow us to wait a moment more so the boy can soak up the serenity of the room. Liquid is already misting its eyes and a tentative smile wobbles on its face.

In my line of work I come across few of these scenes. This, I am discovering, is a bad thing now that I have the boy. It is so very susceptible to other people's emotions and I know that many of my appointments put heavy strain on the child. It hates seeing others suffering. Unfortunately, that is what I see all the time.

I wonder if it is possible for a soul to break after death? I have reaped many souls broken from life, and those shattered pieces always reform into something twisted, ugly, or damaged beyond repair. But those souls all broke during their time alive. Would it be worse if it happened after death?

I do not know. But I suppose I might find out in the future.

Time is up. I have already warned the boy that we were going and it had stopped, so now I just wrap myself around it and step into the _In-between_ (again, named by the boy. I find that the child has a strange need to give a name to everything). The boy gives a surprised squeak and flails for a moment, but goes still the moment it feels the shift from its world to the _In-between_.

The first time I stepped into the _In-between_ with the boy I discovered that this place is actually harmful to human spirits. I am near positive that I almost lost the boy that first time. Even now as I use my body to shield it from the destructive atmosphere of this place, I feel the child flicker momentarily and hiss in pain. I wrap myself more tightly around it. We are almost there.

A moment later I step out. Now I stand in a place devoid of anything. It is dark, but not the kind that blinds your sight. Far ahead of us is a great white light, a beacon of huge proportions. That is my destination. The boy calls this Soul Station and the light it calls Portal of Lights.

I unfold myself from around the child who immediately shoots out and away from me to then turn around and scowl.

"Ichijorei-sama!" The boy whines (I have never had a name before, but of course the boy felt I needed one). "You know I d-don't like it when you grab me without warning. It's kind of scary."

I suppose it might be.

"I did give you a warning before you stopped to watch the crying people."

"W-w-what?! No, that doesn't count!" The boy shakes its head vehemently and then settles into a pout, slinking behind me. I have little doubt it would have said more, but we have drawn closer to the beam which also means we are closer to _others_. The boy always gets quiet and nervous whenever we are around any of the _others_. It draws closer to me, using my huge size as a hiding place. Its form also instinctively dims until it is completely transparent beside me. I can still perceive where its soul is, so it is not completely hidden from me or the _others_ , but for the most part this is effective as very few ever seem to notice its presence.

Those few that do take note of it just stare curiously for a moment before returning to their job. The _others_ and I are, of course, like minded. The job is important and anything not pertaining to it matters little to us. So really the boy has no need to be anxious around any of the _others_.

But I do not discourage its behavior toward them either. In truth, I am nervous. I do not know if taking the boy with me had been the right choice, The surprise and confusion a few of the _others_ have exhibited when they spot the boy worries me. The fact that none of them have shown recognition or understanding when they see the boy is bad. Maybe this truly is the first time this has happened and I made the wrong choice.

I have never made a mistake in my existence, nor have I heard of any of the _others_ ever messing up. Before that fated appointment under the bridge, I never considered it would be possible for my kind to make a mistake.

Now it seems all too possible.

I fear that the boy might be my first mistake.

Does that mean I am capable of making more?

I do not want to display my mistake, if it is one, for the _others_ to see. So it is better for everyone if the boy draws as little attention to itself as possible.

At this point I, with the boy hiding beside me, have reached the Portal of Lights. Reaching into my pocket dimension, I take out the shining yellow human soul and place it directly into the light. The moment I release it the soul begins to slowly float upward. Around us _others_ are doing the same thing.

The boy releases its anxious grip on me and floats forward, staring in reverent awe as the yellow soul and a hundred others all slowly rise within the white light. Looking down I can see the wonder sparkle in the boy's eyes (an emotion I have recently learned existed). I know what is going through its mind, it has told me before what it thinks of the Portal of Lights. It is beautiful, according to it. The white light streaming upward in darkness, filled with dancing colours like fairy lights. It says it looks magical.

I do not know what fairy lights or magical are.

I have seen this Portal of Lights all of my existence so it does not please me the way it does the boy. I ponder for a moment if I had shown such wonder when I beheld the portal for the first time. I do not remember. It was so long ago.

We watch at the Portal of Lights for a few more moments. The boy soaks the sight in as if it was going to be its last time. I watch the boy's face, bathed in white light with a colourful glow flicking past now and again. I decide to appreciate this moment. Each time I look at the boy its expression and the glow of its eyes is always slightly different. It is so interesting.

In time I do not doubt that such a sight will lose its effect on me and become as uninteresting as the Portal of Lights. Not to mention I believe its soul will eventually answer my call and I can place it in the Portal of Lights, so it will not be by my side forever.

None of this will last. So for now I will make this count so that I can remember this feeling (which I cannot find a name for) when it is gone. Is it possible for me to forget the boy as well? I certainly do not remember any of the souls I have reaped in my existence, so it is possible.

I call to the boy's soul again, but once more the only response is a flash of its eyes. It is still not ready. I consider trying to just put it in the portal despite being fully formed, but I already tried that. The Portal had actually rejected the boy, pushing its soul out of the light. That had been annoying.

"Ichijorei-sama?" The boy's voice calls my attention to it. It is looking up at me, its eyes incredibly huge. "Where do you think the souls go?"

The first time I took the boy here it had asked me this question. I said I did not know.

I am about to give it the same response until I realise that it is not asking me what I know but rather what I think. So I think for a moment.

"Judgement, I suppose." I remember once being told that all the souls we gathered are judged. So it does not seem that far fetched to assume that the portal would be taking them there.

"Do you know how they are judged?"

"No."

"Do you know who judges them?"

"Yes."

The boy must not have been expecting that answer because its eyes light up and it gets excited. "Who?!"

"The Judge." I say.

The boy's expression falls. "But who is the Judge?"

"The Judge is the judge."

"Okay, but do they have a name?"

"Yes."

"What is it?" The excitement is in its voice again, though it looks a little more guarded. I think it must like the word yes more than no.

"The Judge." I answer.

"Do they go by any other names?" The boy asks- no, more like pleads.

I pause to think for a moment, then say "Yes."

"What is it?!" It is excited again. I have a feeling my next words will just disappoint it once more.

"I do not know. I only heard the other names once and it was long ago. It does not affect my work, so I did not care about the names."

The boy sighed. "You never care about anything outside of your work."

"Yes." I agree.

The boy turns around now, watching the Portal of Lights with a critical eye and mumbling again. It is trying to deduce the Judges other names on its own. I consider listening in but in that moment I become aware that I am being watched.

 _Others_ are watching us. Nearly all of them here have noticed the boy. It is, after all floating uncloaked in front of the largest, and only, light source in the Soul Station

We have gathered too much attention.

I tap the boy's shoulder. It turns around and grins up at me, a question balanced on the tip of its tongue.

"We must go." I say before it can speak.

I must have sounded urgent because the boy becomes alert and worry permeates its green orbs.

Then it notices all of the _others_ looking at it. The boy's eyes widen, its cheeks turn bright red, and it squeaks in surprise before turning invisible almost instantly... Not that it matters since their attention is already on it.

The boy presses itself close and I feel its hands clutching me. Embarrassment and insecurity bubble out of it causing the _others_ to twitch as they sense its change of emotions.

I begin to move away from the Portal of Lights. Many have already returned to their business, but there are a few _others_ who still watch me and the soul hovering by my side. No one comes forward to tell me the boy was a mistake. I am relieved.

At the same time, no one comes forward to say that I have made the right choice. Or that this strange circumstance has ever happened before. That does not relieve me.

Once far enough away from the portal I gather the boy in my embrace, covering it completely, before stepping back into the _In-between_.

We both sigh in relief when the howling desolate atmosphere of the _In-between_ cuts off the many stares from the _others_. I am eager to begin my next appointment, and for the first time I believe the boy is as well.

* * *

 **Ichijorei-sama**

 **The kanji of the narrator's name is 一助 (Ichijo) and 霊 (Rei).**

 **一助 is a noun which means help, assistance. 霊 means spirit. The 霊 kanji is usually used for positive spirits such as yūrei 幽霊 (common term for spirit or ghosts), sorei 祖霊 (deeply honoured ancestral spirit. Think of the Mulan movie), and eirei 英霊 (spirit of a war hero).**

 **So basically Izuku calls the narrator Helper Spirit. This is because Izuku sees the narrator not as an unfriendly spirit such as an onryō (vengeful spirit), akuryō (evil spirit), or yuki (demon spirit) but rather a helpful one whose job it is to assist the newly departed souls and ferry them to where they need to go.**

 **Also, I listened to the pronunciation of the kanji together and found it is super cute sounding… At least it does to me.**

 **Sama is an honorific that shows high respect. It is used for royalty, gods, deities, or spirits. It can also be used as flattery or an insult (depending on the context), but it's pretty safe to assume that Izuku isn't trying to be insulting.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: Lets just say everything is not alright.**

* * *

"I'm retiring."

Tsukauchi nearly chokes on his coffee, barely managing not to spill the hot liquid on his work shirt. Once his mug is set safely down on the table between them, the detective gives his old his undivided attention. Toshinori feels as if Tsukauchi were trying to read his mind with how intense his stare is.

"Why?"

Toshinori had expected this question. He still hadn't figured out how to answer it in a way that would not upset his dear friend.

"Does it matter?" Toshinori finally shrugs, his fingers nervously fiddle with the diners menu.

There is a laugh and the hero's eyes flick over to a mother and her child sitting a few booths away from them. The child is laughing, proudly holding up a picture he's drawn for his mom. A tattered notebook filled with hero drawings and notes flashes through his mind and Toshinori feels a stab of guilt.

Tsukauchi is still staring intently.

"It does," Tsukauchi finally says. "Because if you're reasons for retiring are what I think they are then you shouldn't."

Toshinori is feeling his frustration mounting within. He knew this conversation wasn't going to be easy and while he deeply respects and cares about his friend, Toshinori wishes that Tsukauchi wouldn't make this so difficult. "Why? You and Nighteye have both wanted me to retire now for five years. I'm finally agreeing with you and now you tell me I shouldn't?"

The detective rests his elbows on the table and leans forward. There is so much concern written on his face- but his eyes are hard. "Because it wasn't your fault."

"NO! IT WAS-" People are looking at them and Toshinori realises he's yelling. Toshinori clamps down on his frustration and forces himself to take a deep breath. His stiff back and clenched fists loosen until he is bowed in on himself, head bowed in defeat. "It was my fault. You and Nighteye warned me, but I didn't listen. I fooled myself into thinking I could be the same hero I was before. But I'm not. I'm weaker and slower now. I can't always be there when others call for help. Yet I acted as if nothing had changed, as if I could still help people. And because of my folly an innocent life paid the price."

There is a pause. Toshinori looks up at his friend, he knows he must look awful. His already tired and skeletal appearance now looking haunted as well. "Tell me, what kind of hero can't save people?"

"And what if you hadn't been there?" Tsukauchi asks. "That child would still be dead. The only difference is the villain probably would have gotten away. You can't save everyone, Yagi. You couldn't do that even before your fight with All for One. That child's death is not your fault."

Toshinori shakes his head. "No… If I had retired back then- if I had let go of my pride and handed over One for All to someone more capable, than the boy- Midoriya would still be alive."

Tsukauchi looks like he is about to argue with Toshinori, but the hero continues speaking. "I was the one who chased the villain into the sewers. I was the one who caused the villain to panic which lead him to try and possess a body. If it were not for me, the villain would never have even crossed paths with Midoriya."

The detective is silent.

Toshinori cannot look at his friend right now. There is so much shame in his heart. So much guilt in his soul.

"Yagi," Tsukauchi finally speaks, his voice quiet. "You couldn't have known your actions would lead to-"

"Couldn't I?" Toshinori shakes his head bitterly. "It's been obvious, hasn't it? That I couldn't keep pretending everything is alright. That one day I was going to fail. The truth is I can't be there for the people anymore. I'm not All Might and I haven't been for five years."

"Please stop!" The detective pleads. "Stop doing this to yourself!"

But Toshinori isn't listening. He isn't looking at his friend or acknowledging him.

Instead he looks at his hands, uncurling his fingers from the fists he hadn't realised he'd been making. Small scars crisscross over the tough skin, barely visible but still there to tell of the many battles he has fought with these hands.

A larger scar on his side. One that constantly causes him pain and marks him as broken. One he hides from the world. He should have passed on One for All when he was first branded by this scar. If someone more capable had been in his place, they would have caught the villain before he even had a chance to run away.

The women and her child Toshinori had noticed earlier are now joined by another family. The children immediately begin playing with each other, laughing and chatting excitedly. The parents talk candidly among themselves. They are all so happy.

Toshinori remembers the look on Inko Midoriya-san's face when she first looked upon the limp body of her son.

"You're still taking the teaching job at UA, right?" Tsukauchi asks. The silence between them had been growing oppressive.

"No."

"DAMN IT TOSHI!" The detective slams his fist onto the table, glaring at Toshinori as he grist his teeth. "WHY?!"

"They want All Might and that isn't me."

"That is a pathetic excuse and you know it!" Tsukauchi growls, pointing an accusing finger at his friend. "Maybe you're right and you can't be an active hero anymore. Maybe you do need to retire and pass on One for All. But you will always be All Might! If you really want to retire, fine! Do it! But remember this. No matter what you think of yourself right now, you will always be a hero. It's who you are Yagi. It's a part of you and always has been even before you took on the name All Might- even before you got that quirk. If you try and ignore that part of you, you'll destroy yourself from within.

"I get it if you think you can't protect people like before. But you can still help people, you can still make a difference. Become a teacher and help prepare the next generation of heroes."

Toshinori hears the seat across from him creak and the rustle of clothing as his friend stands up and pulls on his coat. "I have to go, but we are not done here Yagi. Teaching will do you good, I know it. And if I have to call Nighteye and Gran Torino and get them down here to keep you from making a huge mistake, then I will."

Footsteps begin leading away but stop when Toshinori stands up hurriedly and calls out, "Tsukauchi."

The detective stops, then turns around to look back at Toshinori. He's still angry, but there's worry there too.

Toshinori knows he doesn't deserve such a good friend. "Thanks."

Tsukauchi blinks once, then a gentle and relieved smile touches the corners of his mouth. "Your my friend, Tashi. I can't let you hurt yourself. You don't deserve it- no matter what you think."

Toshinori snorts. Sometimes he thinks Tsukauchi has a second quirk that lets him read minds.

Tsukauchi begins to leave once more, but he hesitates. "Just- just to understand. Why this kid? You've lost civilians before."

Toshinori looks back down at his hands. He remembers holding that boys broken body, crying over the small frame, carrying it to the mother's doorstep. He also remembers bearing the weight of all the other people he could not save.

He doesn't know why the boy affects him so greatly. He's cried before, felt this crushing guilt before. Been plagued by nightmares before.

Midoriya is different.

Maybe it has to do with that moment under the bridge when he was alone, hugging the boy tightly to his chest as he wept. He isn't sure how to explain it or even if there is anything to explain. But under that bridge... he hadn't felt alone. There had been another presence with him, hovering close to him. It was filled with sadness and regret just like him, yet different.

In his dreams the presence has a voice. Its a crying child telling him it's not his fault. Thanking him for caring, for even trying. Then the voice tries to take on the blame himself. Says that he is the one at fault. Calls himself worthless and useless.

Toshinori wakes up in tears every night.

"I don't know. Maybe he was the final straw."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summery:** **Ichijorei misplaces ghost boy.**

* * *

"864, 865, 866, 867, 868, 86-"

The moment we step into the physical world, we both are accosted by bright flashing lights. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Blue.

The boy's counting halts and I think for a moment the boy has finally given up on its weird game. It has been doing it since we left the last appointment.

The child rushes past me and straight into the crowd of spectators who have gathered at the edge of the flashing lights. I watch it bobbing through the mass of living humans before crying "A-ha!" and disappearing.

I consider the boy's antics for a moment- but its weird actions slips from my mind easily as I turn to do my job.

Before me is a mess of twisted metal, shattered glass, and the thick smell of leaking gasoline. My next three appointments are buried somewhere in the mess and I need to find them. Already I see that humans are being dragged out and others in blue are rushing their twisted bodies into ambulances. I do not want my appointments being carried away by one of those white vehicles. It is extremely hard to reap a soul when the body which it is still attached to is in constant motion- a problem I do not usually have to deal with since empty human vessels tend not to move.

I have found my first soul and cut its last tie to this world when the boy is back by my side. The child takes a moment to give a small bow to the soul I am reaping in what I assume is a show of respect. It seems to do this with nearly every soul I reap.

Now I move to find the next soul. The boy trailing behind me.

"So I was counting." The boy says. "A-and I figured out that no time passes when we leave here. We were in the _In-between_ and S-soul Station for 14 minutes and 48 seconds. But when I just checked the time from someone's phone it showed the exact same time as when we left. They only had a clock that showed hours and minutes so I don't know if maybe a few seconds passed- but it was still the same minute from when we left. That means we- er, or you- can teleport; traveling from one distance to another without any time passing. That could be a really useful quirk for a hero. Of course I know it's not really a quirk- but if it were then I could finally be useful. Although, I guess I wouldn't be the one who is useful since you're the one who is actually teleporting and not me. Imagine how many people you could help, though!… If you weren't, you know, you... and were corperial. Although, being incorperial could help too when fighting villain's or performing rescues- if you could choose when you could phase through things and when not to."

Ah, quirks… and heroes. Besides the boy's constant questions and mumbling, I have discovered that it also loves talking about quirks and heroes. I myself do not much care about either. They mean nothing to me… well, that is not completely true.

There is one quirk I sometimes concern myself with. It is one I have heard about from the _others_. They have said that it keeps its bearer's body from decaying. This only prolongs the inevitable, however. Those who have seen it in passing can tell that the soul is being stretched thin and will not last forever. One day it will give out despite the longevity of the body. Souls were not made to last in the physical world. The _others_ and I all wonder who will be the one to reap that strange soul.

I hope it will not be me. That kind of soul would never have a peaceful death and I can only imagine what troubles it would cause me. Just think of all the resentment and anger that would be boil within that soul when life finally succeeded in ending it.

But when compared to the boy I doubt any person could match it with emotions. Even now the boy is looking around us at the traffic accident with so many different emotions flowing out of it that it would have made any of the _others_ dizzy. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I am used to the flurry of feelings that always surrounds the child. Three months have passed (the boy has been keeping count) and the boy is still running strong on whatever emotional excess it had when it died. I am quite sure I have somehow stumbled upon the most emotional human being ever to be created.

My wandering thoughts are halted when I find my next soul. It is a small soul, so light and feathery that I know immediately it is a very young. It is still alive though, tucked gently inside the frail little body of a tiny girl in pigtails. It appears I am early, an uncommon occurrence but still one I am used too.

A mother is calling to her child even as a rescue hero (having just arrived) pulls her out of the metal death trap which humans call cars. The child does not answer because it is unconcious. The hero turns to get the child next.

And that is when I no longer have to wait. The car explodes, fire taking it up in an instant. I step into the burning light, the roaring nearly drowning out the scream of despair and anguish that rips itself from the mother's throat.

The soul comes to me easily and I am moving on to find my last soul. The mother falls to her knees in defeat and rages. It is angry at death, furious and out of control. I have seen this reaction many times from the living, though I do not get it. Why are they always so angry at death? Life is the one that did this- that keeps killing everyone. After all, no one survives life.

I have just come upon my final soul which lies in the heart of the whole mess. I assume based on the rott of the soul and strange costume of the body (villain, I think). Perhaps the boy knows the name of the villain. After all, it has a great treasury of knowledge when considering the topic of heroes and villains.

Except that the boy is gone.

When did that happen?

I should have realised it sooner. It would have been trying to comfort that mother back there or been crying over the death of the little girl.

It isn't, though, and I have no idea when it left me… or why.

I turn to gaze around me, searching the wreckage and crowd. I cannot feel its soul nearby, neither can I see the light green glow of its aura.

My first thought is to search harder for it. But that is quickly banished when I remember the last soul I must reap. For a second I am full of indecision on whether to find the child first or finish my work here. Every moment that passes is another moment the boy can wander farther away. Then again, I need to complete this job as well.

I try to finish this appointment quickly, but the soul does not heed my call. It shakes and wriths in rage instead.

This is bad. I have limited time to try and wrangle this stubborn soul in and find the boy. The emotion in the soul is weak, though, so I know that the rage should quickly dissipate.

Time slips past.

The soul is not being quick enough, not for me at least. Without another thought I reach out and grasp it. The anger courses through me and I feel intimately the hate this soul has for the world. I am uncomfortable feeling such emotion.

Then the emotions winks out immediately and I easily reap the soul.

Although the negative human emotions are gone, I can still taste the bitter and stinging emotion ghosting through me like an unpleasant echo. There is no time for this, however, and I shake the effects off of me as best I can so I may focus. I need to find the boy before my next appointment.

Thankfully, I do have some time. Having finished three appointments in one trip I have a few minutes to spare. If I had not then I know I would have had to leave without it, probably to never come across the green little soul again. I have no idea what the soul would do if left. I would hope that when the soul is ready I might feel the pull and have a second appointment to fully reap it. But there is just as big a chance that there is no second appointment. Can one soul even have two appointments? What might happen to a soul if it is never reaped.

I believe I was told this once, though I am unsure. There was something about no final rest, no judgement, just wandering forever and ever until it rips apart or dissipates. I think that such a fate would be cruel. I am glad I have time.

Taking a moment to gather myself, I clear everything from my senses- focusing hard on feeling for only one thing: souls.

I have never done this before. I have never had the need to. I am always able to pick out those souls I am appointed to reap. They pull at my senses and catch my sight like a beacon. But the boy is not like all the other souls. From the moment I touched it and witnessed the soul take shape- its own beacon snuffed out.

This means I must search out the child's soul personally... which might be impossible were I not so keenly familiar with its wavelengths. I am loath to admit that I really have spent a lot of time with the boy.

At first I feel myself overwhelmed as all the souls in the vicinity bombard my senses. Normally I can feel them all like static at the back of my senses, but now that I am focusing on that static it washes over me like a flood.

I begin to sift through the souls, picking them out and organising them. Things become clearer and not so difficult. My senses reach farther, processing faster as I touch and then discard soul after soul until I find it. I just barely brush over it, but I know immediately that it is the boy.

I am about to move toward the boy when I remember what it had been saying before leaving me. Being free of the laws of the human world I can travel fast across land and through air- but using the _In-between_ just might be faster. I decide to try out the boy's 'teleportation' theory.

Taking note of where the soul is, I step into the _In-between_ and move forward before stepping out again.

The boy squeaks at my sudden appearance and I am about to pull him to me so that we may leave when I notice the soul right beside him.

There are two other souls, actually, in the room I have just stepped into. One is a powerful and bright orange soul that spits sparks. It is housed in the body of a middle aged woman with platinum blonde hair. Despite its strength the soul seems sad and compassionate, but more than that I can feel the anger radiating off of it- anger directed at me. Or more accurately, death- but I am almost certain that for a moment the women's eyes glare straight at me.

The other soul is very familiar and it takes me less then a moment to realise why. It is nearly identical to the boy's soul. Green- though darker. Gentle and soft. The only major difference is how much weaker the women's soul is.

That is not to say its soul is weak. Both women's souls are full of inner strength of will.

But thinking back to the boy's soul I marvel at just how much stronger it was. Few souls have ever seemed so determined. Perhaps it really should not be a surprise that it has managed to persist this long.

The green women's soul is brimming with so many emotions it is nearly distracting. Most of them, those I can pick out anyway, are different forms of sadness. And defeated.

That is when I notice the way the boy is trying to hug this women despite its intangible form. It is also crying.

"She's m-my mom." The boy says to me as it sniffs and wipes the back of its hand across its eyes. "I-I never got to say goodbye… and when I recognised where we were b-back there, I knew I h-had to ch-check up on her… just to- you know- make sure sh-she's doing okay."

"And is your mother doing okay?" I ask.

The boy heaves in a breath. "Y-yeah… no. No, not really. She- she's moving because she can't b-bare to l-live among all the memor- memories. This is her last day here."

I notice now that the room is rather barren. A few boxes sit near the doorway but everything seems to have already been packed up and taken out.

"She's leaving because of me." The boy sniffles. "All of her friends, her work, Oba-chan and Oji-san… everything. And it's my fault."

The two women are embracing now and there is an overflow of emotions- grief, pain, fondness, love, regret, and sadness. The boy must feel them too, because it cannot stop its tears from gushing out now.

"It is not your fault." I say, touching its shoulder gently but firmly to let it feel my presence. I do not know if this helps, but the boy seems to lean into the touch- even if it does shiver a little.

"But if I hadn't died-"

"It cannot be your fault." I say, interrupting it with a little more force than before. "You have no control when your life ends. No human does. None of this can actually be your fault. You are dead. Everyone dies eventually."

I think for a moment that my words might have the opposite effect of what I want, but the child actually seems to calm down a little.

The two women begin to leave, taking up the remainder boxes and exiting the building. I and the boy are now left in an empty house. The child leans closer to me. I stay still.

"... I just wish things were different." It finally says, voice barely above a whisper.

"Many do." I say. We stand a moment more in the silence.

"It is time to go." I finally say. I spread myself wide, ready to fold the boy up in my presence and protect it from the harsh atmosphere of the _In-between_. Without a word the boy steps into my grasp. I am startled, however, when the child reaches its arms around me and buries its face into me, hugging me as it might another human.

I stiffen for a moment, unsure what to do. The boy squeezes me tighter. A part of me realises that it is seeking comfort from me. I am not sure I am capable of giving such a thing.

I fold myself around it, holding the child tightly before stepping out of the empty room and into the barren _In-between_.

My next few appointments go by quietly. The boy does not let go of me for a while. I must be succeeding in this comfort thing.

* * *

 **Wow! I keep getting so many great questions and reviews from you guys! That is just so cool and I want to thank everyone! You are all so supportive and I love hearing about your thoughts on this work of mine.**

 **Sadly a few of you left yourself anonymous which normally is not a problem- except that I really like responding to your reviews. So that has made things a bit more difficult. Still I am going to try!**

 **Here goes nothing:**

 **Anonymous guest number 1- Frank (You started your response with the word frankly):** _ **I too am boggled why Katsuki is allowed to swear so much on a daily basis. Of course, it makes sense that he got away with it in middle school because that place was rubbish. I'm pretty sure students could have gotten away with murder at that dump. What confuses me is why he gets away with it in UA. Normally prestigious schools like that would not tolerate such rude language. Then again, this is the same school that seems completely fine letting Mineta continue his disturbing tomfoolery.**_

 **Anonymous guest number 2- Leisel (You talked about the Book Thief):** _ **Yes actually. Good eye there Leisel. Aspects of that story did inspire me in the formation of my own story. I just loved that book (movie was great too) and found the way Zusak played with words and images so intriguing. Needless to say, the concept for this story was actually born out of four words. Only after I started exploring the implications of those words did I take inspiration from Zusak and create my own version of death.**_

 **Anynymous guest number 3- :L (for the semicolon you put in front of the word 'looking' which made frowny face):** _ **Yeah... just to give you a warning most of my chapters are not exactly happy. Did I mention I tend to kill someone off almost every chapter?** **Sorry :L . Hope that doesn't ruin your day.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summery: When that one person you want to hold in your arms and cherish forever is the very person you can never touch again.**

* * *

"Well," Mitsu-chan huffs as she claps her hands on her hips and surveys the now empty apartment. "Now that those boxes are finally packed that's about it. My boys should be back soon with the truck and we can finish loading everything into… Inko-chan?"

Inko tries to smile, but its a weak attempt and doesn't fool her best friend one bit... Not that Mitsu-chan is usually fooled by her smiles, especially as of late.

The blonde women's brow knits together and a frown draws the corners of her mouth down. Inko knows she looks like a mess, she is trying to keep the tears in and stop shaking. It's not working.

"Alright," Mitsu-chan folds her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow. "You were reasonably fine a few moments ago, what's wrong?"

"He's gone." Inko sobs. "Izuku is gone and he can't ever come back."

Mitsu-chan's face grows darker, but her eyes have softened. She moves over to where Inko is crying on the floor of her kitchen and reaches a hand out to awkwardly pat Inko on the back. Mitsu-chan is not a touchy feely person like Inko is. She doesn't do tenderness or comfort. But she is trying and Inko loves her friend for it.

"You already knew that." Mitsu-chan says. Inko knows she doesn't mean to be insensitive.

"I-I know. B-but i-its just that I s-suddenly fe- feel like he's here r-right now. Like I c-could j-just reach out a-and hold him a-again."

Inko is frustrated with herself. She's already gone through all of these emotions when they packed up Izuku's room. Everything had been so Izuku that she could not help but feel like he was there with them.

Now, now she had just been cleaning the kitchen one last time when a sudden presence so achingly familiar had crashed in upon her. Her knees had buckled and she had collapsed to the floor weeping.

Regret and grief gather in her chest until Inko feels so burdened and weighed down by her emotions she might be crushed.

"Come on." Mitsu-chan's voice is uncharacteristically soft as she lifts Inko off the floor. Inko only notices now that her hands are reaching out as if she were hugging someone small to her. It almost feels like she really is, like her little boy truly is in her arms right now cuddling against her as he did when he was younger. Its like he really is here with her.

Inko lets her arms drop and sob's harder. Mitsu-chan leads her to the couch and sits her down before joining her. Strong arms wrap around her and Inko begins crying into her friends shoulder. "I'm sorry," she tries to say but her words gets pretty muffled. "It's been three m-months and I really sh-should be over c-crying!"

"Hey, hey. It's fine Inko-chan. Go on and cry. There is nothing wrong with crying."

Inko sobs harder even as gratefulness wells up in her chest. Mitsu-chan always knows what to say and Inko is thankful for that.

They sit their for a while, Inko crying and Mitsu-chan holding her. The blonde women is Inko's anchor to reality right now.

Something changes in the atmosphere and the overwhelming feeling of Izuku is masked by a chilling stillness in the air that reminds Inko of death. A shiver runs down Inko's spine, but though it hurts she welcomes this knew feeling. It reminds her that Izuku is really gone, that the whole in her heart is justified and she isn't going to look up and suddenly see her baby boy coming around the corner smiling like the sun and excitedly talking about heroes.

Inko thinks that knowing her son is dead is better than forgetting for a moment that he's not, that the world isn't broken, only to be disappointed when Izuku doesn't appear before her eyes.

"It's okay Inko." Mitsu-chan says when Inko's crying quiets down. "Things won't be so hard in your new home. That's why your moving. To start over. Izuku wouldn't want you to be sad forever."

No, he wouldn't. That is what finally convinced Inko to move. She could never be happy here where everything- the park bench where they used to sit and feed the ducks together, the streat corner where he would stop and wave to her up on their balcony before disappearing around the bend on his way to school, the convenience store were he would always buy his hero analysis notebooks- would only remind her of what she lost.

"I'll miss you." Inko sniffs, rubbing at her eyes.

"Hey," Mitsu-chan grins. "You can't get rid of me that easy. We'll still see each other. There's no way I'm leaving you on your own for too long. No telling when I'll barge into your new place to make sure your taking care of yourself. I know where you live, after all."

Inko laughs, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. "What would I do without you Mitsu-chan?"

"Ha!" Her friend laughs and stands up, a confident gleam in her eyes. "Probably just fine, to be honest. You may have everyone else fooled, but I know you Inko-chan. Your a tough bitch like me! I've seen you face down that villain of a husband you had with just a spatula! I know you can survive even this!"

Inko blushes at Mitsu-chans language, but she's smiling again, for real this time. It still hurts and Inko knows that it will always hurt- but she will keep moving forward.

Because that is what Izuku would want for her and she is going to do everything she can to honour his wishes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary: Izuku has a bad day at work. Ichijorei still has no idea how to handle... well, any of this.**

* * *

The boy and I stare at the crumpled body in front of us. The middle school courtyard is disturbingly still and quiet. Long shadows streak across the yellow painted ground as he sun sinks lower into the west. We are the first ones on the scene and will probably be the only ones to know of this person's death until morning comes again.

Unless the cleaning crew decides to use the front entrance.

The body is twisted and mangled on the pavement, features smashed beyond recognition against the cold hard ground. Blood pools around the still body, soaking into the person's white uniformed shirt, staining it red. A soul, small and fragile looking, barely hovers a few inches above the body. It is a light blue colour, one of the more cleaner hues I have seen. But it is hard to notice the pleasant quality of the colour over the the souls fractured and flaking appearance. Hardly any light seeps from it and it seems to be deteriorating in front of us. I am actually surprised the soul managed to hold out for so long before giving up and ending its life.

The boy shakes behind me. It has gone very, very silent.

Its silence worries me.

I used to enjoy these suicide souls. They were almost always the easiest to call and responded to me the fastest. There were the few suicide cases where a soul resisted me because, at the last minute, they had been filled with a desperate want to live even though they had already taken that final step. Those souls always fought so hard, screaming and slicing at me in their desperation to survive- even though it was too late.

Those were rare cases, though. Most of the souls that had killed themselves were all too eager to come to me.

Recently, however, I have found myself hoping they will not show up on my roster.

I have a pretty good idea why I feel this sudden change.

I look back at the boy. All colour and light has leached from its body so that it is dim and grey. Only the eyes are still green. They shine brighter than normal, burning with an intensity I would not have thought possible.

Already liquid is filling up its eyes. But it does not make a sound.

I wish it would. Then I would know it was alright.

I look back at the soul waiting for me, trying to puzzle out why suicides seem to affect the boy so badly. It hates suffering. I know this about it after four months of it following me everywhere. It is also incredibly empathetic and will cry if someone else so much as sheds a tear.

In fact, the boy sobs at nearly every appointment, sometimes with the people still alive who miss the deceased and sometimes for the dead soul who left this world in a painful way. Its is too emotional, in my opinion (then again, I find all humans too emotional). Despite this, however, the boy always seems to try and look for a bright side in every situation.

Which is utterly ridiculous and should be impossible.

Apparently, though, it is not.

There is a horrible car accident in the city with three collisions, ten injured, and two deaths. The boy is thankful so many people made it out okay. A husband dies of cancer leaving behind a family. It is thankful that the mother and children still have one another for comfort. A baby dies in its sleep. It is glad they did not feel any pain before passing. Mob on mob violence kills three people. The boy hopes that the deaths might encourage the survivors to give up their criminal ways and live a better safer life.

Death after death and still it always manages to find a bright side.

Except for suicides. It has never found anything to be thankful or hopeful for in a suicide. It never even speaks during these appointments.

I did not realise how used to the boy's chatter I had become. Now the silence feels wrong. It is wrong for it to be so silent and still, I am sure of it.

"Why do you think he died?" I hear the boy say in a quiet voice.

I feel myself sigh in relief. Good, it is talking. Perhaps the boy will not be so silent after this. Perhaps the child will go back to how it usually acts. Really, was there anything for me to worry about in the first place? How silly I am sometimes.

But before I can feel completely relieved I need to make sure the boy continues talking. I can start that by answering its question. That should initiate more talking, and at this point I do not care if the child goes into a mumbling tangent or question frenzy. Anything will do over this silence.

"When the human hit the pavement it crushed the skull, destroying its brain. The kid also has three broken ribs that pierced the left and right lung. If the skull had not cracked then the human would have suffocated from the pooling of blood in the lungs. It has also has lost four pints of blood. So if the ribs and skull injuries had not killed the kid, blood loss would have."

The boy chokes and I turn around to see that it is shaking. Huge droplets of water stream down his cheeks and the boy is now completely white- even its eyes have lost their colour.

Oh great, I broke it. I suspect I did not give it the right answer.

"N-n-no." The boy struggles to speak past all the emotion clogging up its voice. "Th-that's no- that's not wh-what I-"

It says nothing further to me. I wonder what it had meant by its question. I wonder if I would have been able to answer it. I wonder what makes this suicide different from the others that it is actually crying now instead of shutting down like usual.

Time is ticking and the shadows are growing longer. The sun has cast the boy and I in dark shadow. The broken body is still basking in warm light.

I need to get my job done. Perhaps finishing this as quickly as possible is best for the boy.

But before I can move the child says something. Not to me, I know this immediately. The child is speaking to the suicide soul.

I can barely pick out the words mixed in with its sobbing. I still try and listen though.

"I-I-I'm so-oo-rry. I'm s-s-sorry you felt l-like th-this w-was your only o-option. It wasn't- i-it shouldn't h-have b-b-been. I-I'm so sorry."

I look back at the body. It looks so small out there in the middle of the empty courtyard with the school building towering over it. The soul sinks ever lower as it waits for me to take it. But I do not yet, because something is bothering me.

The ruby puddle that is ever expanding around the body shimmers in the last rays of the day. It coats the white pavement and the bodies clothes and skin.

I must get my job done.

The boy continues to cry behind me. It sounds so wretched. I want to fix this.

But my job must come first.

… Right?

I look one more time at the soul, then turn around and move toward the boy. This cannot continue.

I hunch over the boy and touch it to let it know I am here by its side. The boy looks up at me and I see in its eyes the same look it had when we first met. Desperation, fear, sadness, but also something brighter. I remember this emotion. I saw it when I first met the child. When he asked me to save him.

The child is entrusting me again with this precious emotion I have no name for. I feel the responsibility weigh down on me. I failed last time. I will not fail this time.

So I speak. "I have a job for you."

The sobs stutter and it blinks at me in shock. I myself am just as shocked. Exactly what job do I have for it? What is there that it can do which I might need help with?

I look back at the soul still waiting over the crumpled body.

No wait, this is perfect. A job is exactly what it needs. All this time the boy has been doing nothing. It has no job. No purpose. I try to imagine what I would do without my job and suddenly I am impressed that the boy has held out for so long.

"I need you to help that soul. Keep it from falling apart anyfurther." That is a safe request. The soul cannot fall apart anymore now that it is dead. I think it is probably important to try and set the boy up for success. Honestly, though, I have no idea what I am doing.

"H-how?" The boy asks. It is still oh so broken up, but that precious light in its eyes is growing stronger. I can see the flickering green glimmer, waiting for me to fan it into a flame. At least I know I am doing something right so far.

"Talk to the soul." I say, because that is something I know the boy can do. It is also something I think it should do. I hate its silence.

The boy looks doubtful, but I push it ahead anyway.

Hesitantly it approaches the body. The boy stops in front of it, eyes trained on the tiny blue soul floating before us.

"H-hi." The boy sniffles. The soul does nothing. But that is to be expected. I would be worried if the soul did respond.

The boy pushes forward. "I-I, um… my name is Midoriya Izuku and… uh," he sniffs, wiping away a huge drop of shining crystal as it trails down his cheek. "I- know you must be scared… and confused. A-and I know life wasn't g-good for you. I mean, I don't kn-now exactly what your l-life was like, but I-I understand a little wh...what you must have been f-feeling. And I-I'm sorry. I w-wish I could have helped you before this…"

The boy stops. The sun has left the sky completely now and it is now dark. The only light to be seen are the street lamps behind us and the faint glow from the souls of the boy and the suicide kid. The colour has began returning to the boy as it speaks.

Good. So far everything seems to be working splendidly. I am quite proud of myself. Soon the boy will be back to normal and everything will be right again.

The child takes a deep breath, then continues. Its voice sounds more sure now. "B-but I'm here now. And even if it- it doesn't matter much after the fact… I want to help you."

Then the boy reaches out to the soul and before I can do anything it cups the soul in its hands.

Everything had been going so well too.

Light explodes between them, the whole courtyard is bathed in white and for a moment I can just barely see their two souls, blue and green, shining among the bright backdrop of white that consumes everything else.

The white light disappears as suddenly and quickly as it had appeared. But the courtyard is not recast in darkness. The boy and the suicide soul are still glowing brightly.

I can feel their emotions saturating the earth and sky around them. It spills out in waves, crashing and soaking everything. It is overwhelming to me.

Because of this I feel deep within my core what the two human souls are feeling. There is grief and despair and oh so much hurt that makes me want to just stop existing. I am shaking, sobbing. I did not know I could cry. I do not thing I can take this. Please stop it! It is too much! It is ripping a whole inside of me. Tearing, biting, hollowing me out until there is nothing but emptiness. It hurts so much! It drags me down until I am drowning. No one is there. No one cares. The emptiness is crushes me. I am suffocating. I cannot find relief. I am drowning and no one is noticing. No one is noticing. Help please! Someone! I am drowning. No one notices. No one cares. I cannot take it any longer. It would have been so much better if I was never born.

No… wait. I was never born. Only physical beings can be born, like humans. I am not a human. This is not me. These emotions are not mine.

But they are still drowning me.

Or at least, they were. Now, though, I can think again. I can feel myself again. And yet emotions are still welling up inside of me. But they are calm, they are comforting. They reassure me that I am not alone. That I am not drowning anymore. That someone cares. Izuku cares.

The boy, I can feel him. So pure, so bright. He warms me, fills the whole inside and banishes the biting and tearing and crushing and emptiness that was consuming me. I smile, I may not have been able to help this soul while he was alive. But I can help him now. And that is all I have… all he has ever wanted to do. Help people.

I- he is calm. The boy is filled with peace and even joy as I- he continues to fill up the soul's hungering emptiness with the simple reassurance that finally, finally someone sees me- them. Someone understands them. Someone is helping them.

The emotions begins to recede, pulling back into the two souls. They leave me and I am left stunned. I am positive I am not made to feel so much at one time. This is by far the worst human emotion backlash I have ever experienced. And yet it does not leave me aching or itching like usual.

Instead I feel at ease. I am even a bit empty, like it is weird not to be filled with emotions. I think this must be because of the boy.

The bright glow fades between the two human souls until they are back to normal… which is wrong. Not for the boy, of course. He's supposed to glow strong, soft, and bright. What is wrong is the suicide soul which still sits in the boy's hand. It is brighter than before and it is no longer flaking. It is still too small and still bares cracks like scars, but it does not look as if it might disintegrate on the wind.

It looks… healed.

I do not know what to do.

This has never happened before.

The boy turns to me and I see a wobbly smile on his face. His eyes are shining like stars. That precious emotion, the one of brightness and lightness and unwavering calm is dancing in his eyes. "Ichijorei-sama, Shimizu Kaito-san is ready."

Wordlessly I step forward and cut the soul's last tether to earth and call it to me. Nothing more is said between the boy and I as I wrap him safely in my embrace. Holding the boy I can get a taste of his human emotions which feels right. I never realised how empty I was before.

We head for Soul Station. I let the boy take the soul and put it in the portal when we get there.

He looks so at peace as he watches the blue soul drift up into the light.

I call his soul while he is looking at the light. Perhaps after that huge emotional release the boy is ready. His soul still does not respond.

That is alright though. I do not know if I actually want to reap his soul anymore. I have discovered something important today about the boy. Something important.

 _Others_ watch us as we leave. They notice us all the time now. But I am not bothered by it this time. I do not feel so much that he was a mistake anymore.

I feel instead that I did the right thing.

* * *

 **Shiminzu Kaito:**

 **The kanji for the last name is 清 (shi) which stands for "clear, pure, clean" and 水 (mizu) meaning "water". I chose this surname because the original form of Kaito's soul before he became depressed would have looked more like a glowing sphere of water.**

 **The first name kanji are 海 (kai) which means "sea, ocean" and 翔 (to) meaning "soar, fly".**

 **I chose 海 because of Kaito's own struggle with feeling drowned and isolated. This creates for me the image of finding oneself drifting, sinking in the middle of the ocean. There is not another soul in sight and all you see is blue, blue, blue.**

 **But there is hope and Kaito's story, though bitter, does have a happy ending. That is why I chose the last part of his name, 翔. In the end, with Izuku's help, Kaito is able to rise above his great sadness and find peace.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary: Life sucks- Hitoshi is well aware of this fact.**

* * *

When Hitoshi Shinsou got out of bed that morning to find that a power outage in the night had recet his alarm clock, resulting in him having barely a minute to try to get ready for school, he had a feeling that today was going to be one of those days.

When it started raining halfway to school and his umbrella refused to open, Hitoshi thought things to be pretty normal.

When he arrived at school a minute before class would start, he began to hope his earlier premonition was wrong and that things would continue to be business as usual.

When he walked into his classroom only to have it fall into an intense hush with everyone staring at him as if he had committed murder, he figured what little luck had gotten him to school on time had run out.

When he found out a second year had committed suicide, Hitoshi resigned himself to the splitting headache he knew he would get by the time the school day ended.

Of course, no one outwardly accused him of having something to do with the suicide. But he heard all his classmates whispering about it among each other. Everyone made extra sure not to speak to him, including the teacher.

It wasn't just his class either. Everyone avoided him and everywhere he went he could hear them quietly (not quietly enough, of course) talking about the suicide kid.

"It's so sad."

"He seemed fine."

"Everyone says it was completely out of the blue. He wasn't showing any signs."

"He did stay to himself a lot."

"But he was doing okay in school."

"And things were fine home, no big drama or anything."

"It doesn't make sense that he was depressed."

"Not even his family knew."

"You know what there saying, right? About him."

"There's no way the kid really killed himself."

"He wasn't actually depressed."

"It's gotta be him."

"Of course it was him. He's got a villain quirk you know."

"Wouldn't be surprised if he forced the kid to just walk right off using his quirk."

"I always said he was gonna be a villain."

"You don't think he actually did it, do you?"

"There's no way to tell, is there?"

"He's got the perfect quirk for being a villain."

"Don't say anything to him or you might be next."

Maybe once upon a time such words would have hurt him to the core. Once upon a time such words might have lit a burning pit of anger at the injustice of it all. Once upon a time Hitoshi might have tried to defend himself against such words.

But Hitoshi is too tired to even care. So he ignores their words just like he's been ignoring them for ten years.

He doesn't care what anyone says. Their cruelty cannot hurt him, not anymore.

By the end of the day Hitoshi is not surprised to find that his earlier prediction was right as he walks home with a splitting headache.

When he gets ambushed half way home, though, the headache is forgotten.

He doesn't even realise they are there until pain explodes at the back of his skull and he crumples to the ground. They throw a bag over his head but he still catches a glimpse of familiar school uniform.

That's good, he supposes. At least he hasn't been kidnapped by some villain or gang member.

Hitoshi doesn't think himself so lucky, however, when they drag him into an alleyway, bind his hands, and begin beating him. No one has ever hurt him before. He's been ridiculed, shamed, insulted, and ignored- but never has anyone laid a hand on him. Everyone is too afraid to get near him with how potentially powerful his quirk. They hate him, he knows it. But they are still careful not to make an outright enemy of him.

When he was younger Hitoshi wished sometimes that they would just punch him instead of always whispering behind his back. He would have had visible proof of how they hurt him.

He also thought it might hurt less than their cruel words.

It definitely does not hurt less, Hitoshi thinks bitterly as they punch, kick, and generally just beat the tar out of him. One of them has a bat and they fiendishly wield it. Curling up in a ball doesn't seem to be helping all that much.

Hitoshi realised he's afraid.

No one has ever done this to him before. So he doesn't know how far they will go… If they'll cross that line.

And that fear makes him desperate. That desperation is what spurs him to speak through the pain. Because Hitoshi isn't ready to die.

"Let me guess," Hitoshi is surprised how calm he sounds, "You guys think your the heroes, right? Bringing justice to a poor dead kid by beating up a villain, yeah?"

No one answers him, but Hitoshi didn't actually think they would so soon. His attackers are from his school. They know about his quirk. They know to keep their mouths shut.

But Hitoshi knows how to rile people up. He knows how to make people so angry that they forget who they are talking too. He never uses his quirk in school of course, but he takes pleasure in knowing he can. That he can get people to step right into his trap and open themselves up to being controlled by him.

"That's hilarious. Your honestly deluding yourself into thinking that your the heroes when we all know the tru-"

A leather boot makes it past his protective curl and slams into his abdomen making him gasp in pain. For a moment Hitoshi can't speak as he tries to regain his breath. The beating has intensified.

Good, he's getting to them.

"I-I know your not really doing this for justice. Not even revenge. Your just trying to get rid of your own guilt and I'm your scapegoat."

"Th-" The word is cut off and Hitoshi feels his chance slip by- but he's smiling. His assailants have taken a step back and Hitoshi knows that one of them is using their hand to cover the mouth of the one who has spoken.

Another realisation causes Hitoshi to smirk. This whole time no one but him has spoken. The kids haven't even given each other directions or dared to utter a word to one another. If they were his classmates they would know that they could talk as long as they didn't answer any of his questions.

So they must be classmates of that dead kid. Which means this is a little more personal to them- and personal means emotional which he can take advantage of.

"Hit a nerve did I?" Hitoshi pushes himself up of the cement as best he can with his hands still tied behind his back and his ribs screaming at him to stop being moving around you idiot! Hitoshi ignores the pain.

"We all know who really killed that kid, and it wasn't me. It was you- you and your whole class."

They start beating him again, but their hits are harsher, more frenzied, and even miss him several times. He's so close to having them. "Tell me, did you even know his name?"

Someone kicks him in the head and colours explodes before his eyes. It hurts like hell and he can't think very clearly through the sudden fog- but he's laughing.

"No? Funny since he's been in this school for two years. Bet you guys never even spoke to him."

The beating has intensified and Hitoshi has forgotten why he's trying to get them angry anymore. But he can't stop laughing. It rings bitterly in the air and echoes hauntingly off the alleyway walls.

"No wonder the kid committed suicide." Hitoshi says between the kicks and his own laughter. "It probably beat spending one more day in a world where no one even knows you exist. Tell, me- how does it feel knowing that your the real villain here?"

"SHUT THE F-"

Silence.

There is a gasp. A hesitant step back. The sound of a wood hitting the ground.

Then Hitoshi speaks. " _ **Stop them**_."

And it's over. The other two quickly make the same mistake as their companion and Hitoshi walks out of that alleyway bruised, bleeding, and his hands stuffed in his pockets like he normally does while walking home.

Except it's not normal, is it. But the people he passes in the streat barely look at him. Everyone is acting like normal. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. A car honks at a jaywalker. Someone curses as their phone runs out of battery and cuts of their call. Two women giggled to each other as they window shop. Somewhere a dog barks.

He just got beaten up in an alleyway. But life goes on at its normal pace.

Everything seems so surreal that he does not quite know what to do with himself. So he walks. And walks. And walks. And then he's in a park.

It is here that Hitoshi realises how dark it has become. Stars glitter in the inky sky above and dew from the days rain shimmers on every blade of grass below. The place is deathly quiet as there is not a soul to be found. Somewhere in the fogginess of his mind Hitoshi hears a voice telling him he should go home now or call his parents on his phone to let them know he's okay, even though he really isn't. Except that when he reaches for his phone he finds it in pieces in his pocket.

Well that's just perfect.

Hitoshi begins walking again. Not toward home though. Just further into the park, following a winding path because otherwise he might walk into a tree with how things keep getting out of focus around him. A part of him doesn't want to face his parents right now. They would demand to know what happened and Hitoshi really doesn't feel like talking about it.

He probably should go find a clinic or check himself into the hospital, though. There is a tightness in his chest that makes breathing hard. One side of his face burns and nearly every part of him aches in a different way. Also his vision keeps blurring out and somewhere a part of him knows he's probably got a concussion. But searching for a hospital seems like it would take too much effort. Besides, Hitoshi can't bring himself to care right now.

So he finds a compromise- sit on a park bench and rest for a bit. The bench which gave him the idea is positioned overlooking a pretty pond that shimmers with silver threads from the reflection of the moon upon its water. The whole park seems to hold a sort of tranquil beauty which complements the peaceful night.

It blatantly contradicts Hitoshi's beaten body, exhausted spirit, and tired mind.

He may have lost consciousness then -or just sunk so deep into his thoughts that he forgot about his surroundings- but whatever the case the next thing Hitoshi knows the sky is brighter, the moon has gone, and the still night air seems to have shifted into wakefullness. Everything hurts even more now and Hitoshi has the presence of mind to realise just how stupid he was for not going home or to a hospital.

A sniffing noise beside him made Hitoshi jump a little. Looking to his right he blinks in surprise to see that there is women sitting at the other end of the bench.

When did she get there?

His movement must have caught the women's attention, because she turns to him and they both stare at each other. It's silent.

"Yeep!" The lady cries, jumping off the bench and waving her hands frantically in the air. "I-I'm so sorry I didn't notice you there or else I never would have sat down without asking you if it was alright. I mean, I came here to be alone and since it's so early you must want some quiet time too. This spot is beautiful so I should have realised it might be someone else's quiet spot!"

Hitoshi was having a hard time focusing on the women's hurried words that seemed to stream into one another. His head kind of hurt… a lot. But that didn't stop him from noticing the fresh tears still running down her cheeks. She was smiling, but it seemed so fragile and was overshadowed by her wide green eyes that were red rimmed and shining. She was also shaking slightly, her shoulders hunched. He wondered briefly if her life was as awful as his.

"It's fine." He interrupted her. As much as he might empathise with her for having a rotten life, her babbling was not doing anything to help his head. "I don't mind. Just sit back down and do… whatever you want, I guess."

And that was supposed to be it. They get back to quietly sitting in the park feeling miserable from seperate sides of the bench while the morning slowly dawns. Perfect.

But of course this nervous and possibly heartbroken lady couldn't leave well enough alone.

"Oh, okay. That is good- but I think… wait… are- are you okay? You're eye is swollen and- and is that blood!"

Well, guess it's time to move on. Hitoshi stands up, sways a moment, then turns to leave. The only problem is he suddenly realises he has no idea where home is… or where he is. Well that's a bit concerning.

Before Hitoshi can decide what he's going to do, the women stops him by reaching out. She doesn't touch him, her hands hesitate just short of grabbing his elbow. But she doesn't need to hold him still because her words do it for her.

"Are you alright?"

"No."

…..

Hitoshi would like to remind everyone off record that he has a concussion (at least, he's reasonably sure he does) and that anything he does or says which is out of character (like being honest with a stranger) is not his fault.

Also- Why?! Why did that just come out of his mouth? Hitoshi never admits his weaknesses to anyone- EVER. He has carefully cultivated the perfect mask and aura of apathy to keep anyone from ever thinking that they had gotten to him- that he can be hurt. But one morning after a horrible night sitting on a bench as the coming sun begins to brighten the sky he's lets his walls waver in front of this stranger!

What's worse is he knows he doesn't have the energy to keep the walls strong and if this lady is persistent (oh dear lord, she is- isn't she? He can see it in her eyes.) he might just let them fall away completely.

He has to leave.

"Can I… can I help you?"

"Leave me alone." Hitoshi growls- which he knows is disrespectful, but right now he really doesn't care. "I'm fine."

He starts walking away. This time it's for real and nothing she says will stop him.

And she doesn't say anything. Instead he feels a tug and finds himself stumbling backward. No- not backward… towards her. It's not a strong force, just a gentle, ever present tug urging him toward the lady. Moving away is impossible with how weak he already is, but he can manages standing firm where he is.

She's using her quirk on him.

That makes him angry. "Let me go or I'll report you for using your quirk in public."

If his mom heard the disrespectful way he was speaking to this older women she would scold him. But Hitoshi feels that the lady deserves it. He doesn't have the energy to deal with this crap.

Surprisingly the women doesn't flinch or let go of him. In fact, her green eyes just harden and become more determined. Somehow despite her small frame and gentle appearance she is starting to look very intimidating. It kind of reminds him of his own mother's overprotective parent instinct- except times twenty.

"Who hurt you?"

"No one. Just- just leave me alone lady."

He doesn't want to use his quirk. This lady isn't trying to hurt him like the others. He knows she has pure intentions. But that doesn't mean he's going to just take this. He'll use force if he must. Besides, she started it.

The women shakes her head from side to side and Hitoshi feels a little taken aback to see tears forming in her eyes again.

"N-no." The lady is now holding a clenched fist above her heart as if it holds a precious wish or memory. "I don't know…. I don't know what to say in this situation. I suppose I've never known what to say or how to help. I should have, oh I should have. B-but I can't let that fear stop me anymore. Oh dear, what to say. Young man, I don't know who has hurt you or what you may be going through… but I know how to recognise the handy work of a bully. Let- let me help you."

"Release me."

At his words the lady goes slack. Her concerned eyes take on a hollow look as his power washes over her and takes control. The pressure pulling him towards her disappears. A part of Hitoshi feels guilty for doing this to the women, but he can still feel the sting of how her words hurt him.

How did this lady get past his barrier? He should be beyond this by now. No words should affect him so greatly- make him feel so many emotions.

Hers has.

He releases her from his control because he needs to get these emotions out of him and he needs her to be able to hear him when he speaks.

The women blinks, startled like she isn't quite sure what just happened.

"I just controlled you." Hitoshi says. He's fighting to keep his face neutral, but he can't quite manage to keep the bittern tone out of his words. "I took away your free will, made you do what I said. That's my quirk. Mind control. I could make you do anything once I've activated it. That's why I'm being bullied. Because I've got a villain quirk."

The women is still shocked.

"I hate people like you." Hitoshi is glaring down at this short women. She's shaking. "Pretending that you care, that you want to help. Making yourselves feel better by giving charity to 'poor kids' like me. But you don't really care. No one ever has. The minute they find out about my quirk, they get scared. Like you right now. You're gonna run. I can see it. Run away from the scary villain kid, because that's all I am to you people. Everyone tells me everyday that I'm a villain just because of my quirk. It doesn't matter that I want to be a hero, that I've got dreams or feelings. All anyone cares about is that I've got a villainous quirk that I could use to hurt people- even if I never have."

The women isn't looking at him anymore. Her eyes are cast in shadow by her bangs, her hand still clenched over her chest, she's still shaking.

"So there, now you know the truth. I've bared myself to you completely- let you see my deepest wish, know by darkest secret. Still wanna help the villain kid?"

He said it confidently, like he knew the person would shake their head at him, eyes wide and horrified- telling him he was messed up, he needed help- but not being the one willing to 'help' him.

But the silence between them persisted. The lady doesn't speak, nor does she run.

Warm light begins to peak over the horizon.

Then she looked up just as the morning sun bursts upon them, washing her in light. But even the newly risen sun could not compete with the fire he can see in her emerald eyes.

"You want to be a hero?" The women asked, her voice stronger then ever.

"W-what?" Hitoshi is at a loss for words. He cannot hide his shock behind his usual apathetic expression.

"Do you really want to be a hero? Even though the world keeps telling you that it's impossible and you can't because of our quirk- do you still want to be a hero?"

No one had asked him that before. Even his parents, who he knew loved him, had never asked him what he wanted. They were always too busy and too tired from work.

"Yes." Hitoshi is surprised how sure he sounds, how unwavering and determined he is.

Then the women smiles and it the warmest smile he has ever seen, "Then I know you can become one! My name is Midoriya Inko and I will do whatever I can- no matter how small- to help you achieve your dream!"

Hitoshi has no idea what just happened- _what_ is _happening_? Is- is he making this all up in his head? Who is this lady who seemed so small and fragile before?

"But first I insist on taking you to a hospital!" The women suddenly jumps tracks while Hitoshi is still reeling from her previous words. "Although I don't quite know the way to the nearest hospital. I'm rather new here you see- just moved last week so I'm not that familiar with the neighborhood. Oh, but I do have my phone on me so I could search for the closest hospital and get directions… I'm not quite good with this new technology yet. My friend made me update recently, you see- to help keep in touch. Ah! It's not that far. That's a relief. We can take the subway, I do know where that is from here. Oh dear, you look like your fading fast. I should have insisted on the hospital from the beginning- how irresponsible of me. I'm so sorry. Here just follow me. We'll be there in no time. What's your parents phone number? I'm sure they must be worried sick. And don't think I haven't forgotten about those bullies. You'll have to tell me who they were so that they can be properly punished. It's not right and I'm not letting them get away with it anymore."

At this point Hitoshi can't hear the women anymore as her rapid talking turns to mumbling while she gently but urgently pulls him along.

He's rather stunned. This women, Midoriya-san, completely blindsided him with her reaction. She… she doesn't know him. He used his villain quirk on her. He told her he hated her. He basically said and did everything he could to make her leave him alone.

And she said she believed in him. Felt with all sincerity that he could become a hero. She actually wants to help him reach that goal.

Who is this lady?!

* * *

 **Dun-da-dun-da-daaaaa! Inko mom to the rescue!** **Here to make your life a better one**

 **Now 25% off with this limited time offer! Hurry in while supplies last.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary: Things go smoothly for once... until they don't.**

* * *

"You don't have to be afraid anymore Sasai-san," the boy says in a calm voice as he reaches out for the volatile purple soul.

The soul seems to get more frantic the moment the boy touches it. I notice how the boy flinches and screws up his face as he is flooded with the negative emotions from the soul. He does not give in, though, and begins to comfort the soul. I think he is very good at this. Not that I can compare him to anyone. I do not exactly know very many dead humans.

The boy is confident with the soul he handles. He has, after all, had much practice.

"You're family is safe." The boy says aloud to the soul. "I promise. The heroes came just in time… though they wouldn't have had you not done what you did. Because of you they are going to be okay. You- you're a hero, Sasai-san. You saved them."

At first the soul keeps fighting, keeps trying to protect those still alive. Then there is doubt and confusion for a moment. Finally I watch as the souls emotions change into something brighter and tentatively calm the longer the boy holds the soul. He continues to reassure the soul until it has stopped shaking and is now rests peacefully in his cupped hands. It is relaxed and so very thankful. More than that, though, the emotion which I still have no name for, the one that continues to show itself with nearly every soul I have the boy touch, is now unwavering and I know that it is ready for me to call.

The boy senses it too and withdraws his hands from the soul so that I may release it from its last anchor. The thread is cut and the soul comes when I call, then we are both on our way.

As we place the soul into the portal I take a moment to look at the boy. He is watching the soul join the other souls which all gently float upward in the beam of light. There is a soft smile on the boy's face and such joy and peace in his eyes. I catch a glimpse of the unnamed emotion glinting in his emerald gaze.

"What is that?" I ask.

The boy is startled and turns to me with wide eyes. I do not blame him. I am startled as well. It is usually he who asks the questions, not me.

"Uh… what?" The boy asks, tilting his head to the side.

"That emotion. The one that soul just felt. The one you just felt. You feel it a lot, actually"

"I- um. I'm sorry. I don't know which one you're talking about."

How frustrating. I suppose I must describe it now. I will probably fail. "The one that is fragile and unwavering. It is bright and light and calm and peaceful."

The boy is thinking hard. His head rests in his fist and a finger rubs absentmindedly across his chin. "Hmm- bright and light. When you say light, do you mean the colour or weight density? And how would that translate into emotions? Bright obviously means lit and I have noticed that the souls that were good honest people tend to be bright. So when you say bright emotion you must mean that it is a good or positive emotion. As for light, I don't think you mean colour since souls don't generally change colour with their emotion- perhaps a shade or two of their primary colour, but nothing too substantial. That means you are referring to its weight. Souls that are depressed or sad are heavier while ones that are full of hope and joy are lighter. Could you mean happiness? Or thankfulness? Sasai-san was extremely grateful and happy when I told him his family was safe."

"No." I say. "Those were not it."

I have seen the living be thankful that they were not the soul to die that day. I have seen a humans gentle happiness that their loved one had a good life and a peaceful end. I have seen a happiness that is twisted and dark coming from humans that bask in their murderous deeds. I have recently become familiar with a more peaceful and oh so warm happiness from the boy as he revels in helping distressed souls find peace.

Joy, which he mentioned, is much like happiness except that it tends to be more overpowering. Until the boy came along I did not have a positive opinion of joy. I only ever saw it on villains and it was a very dark malicious emotion. Apparently, however, that is only one form of joy. The boy has since shown me a more powerful, pure joy that is bright and energetic. I see it most when he talks with me about heroes and quirks.

As for hope… Actually, I do not know that one.

"Hope," I say, interrupting the boy who is mumbling about what emotion could be fragile and unwavering at the same time. "What is that? I am unfamiliar with it."

The boy stares at me a moment, as if in aw. Then a smile breaks across his face and I feel the sweet and warm happiness exuding from him. "Hope! That must be it. Of course you wouldn't know what hope is. I can imagine that not many people are feeling very hopeful when they die."

I think on what he says, then nod. "Yes. Hope. What is it?"

"Well, hope is… It's when people have something they are looking toward to or believe in. It's the faith that despite everything, things will get better or that their dreams can come true. Hope helps people to not give up no matter what. Sasai-san kept fighting me at first because a part of him hoped he could still protect his family. When he finally understood that his family made it out his hope that they would be safe came true and he was grateful and happy."

I think about his explanation of hope, then I make an observation. "You are hope."

"W-what?!" The boy looks startled. He is blushing.

"You are nearly always filled with hope." I say. "It shines in your eyes."

The boy mumbles a few words but otherwise says nothing, his head cast down as he refuses to look in my eyes. I know he is not upset, though. The emotions I am reading off of him are all positive. He is hesitantly pleased at my words. Flustered and embarrassed, but overall happy.

I smile to myself, glade that the child took my words as a complement, as I take the boy into the _In-between_ and back to the physical world. The boy does not mind being surrounded by my presence anymore. In fact, I have noticed that the boy seems to find comfort in those moment where I must protect him.

I do not know what this means, but it makes me a little happy nonetheless.

All positive emotions flee from the boy, however, the moment the physical world materializes around us. Our sights are immediately drawn to a broken and bleeding form before us.

There is not much else to see. We are standing in a dark alleyway. The only bright colour is red. Red lake glistening under the body. Red paint smeared and splattered across the walls. Red hair disheveled and slick as it sticks to skin- hiding most of the face which is smashed into the cement.

An auburn red soul, tinted with violet, flickers above the human's broken vessel. The chest is still rising and falling. Lungs still breathing. Heart still pumping. It would be a mercy if they were not.

Life is not so merciful.

"Flawless!" The boy gasps beside me and rushes forward. He stutters to a stop, though, when the bodies eyes snap open and the head turns toward us. Blue eyes look directly at us, first flicking to me and then zeroing in on the boy.

Sometimes, when I arrive too early like now I will see a human in the process of dying. Even more rarely will the human, not fully gone yet, see me. I do not know why this happens or how it is possible. I assume it is because they are wavering at the edge of life and death, caught between two worlds which somehow let them interact with both sides.

The boy has never seen this happen before. I never warned him that it could happen. That could turn out to have been a mistake on my part.

I sense a sudden spike of fear from the boy. I myself am worried. Souls like this which stand on the edge of life and death tend to react violently toward me. I fear the violence may extend to the boy for being with me.

It turns out I have no need to worry though.

The man and the boy stare at one another for a moment. Then the man looks one more time at me before sighing, a smile ghosting across his beaten face. The flickering soul becomes more visible- there are only four white strings anchoring it to the broken body.

This seems to push the boy into action.

"No!" He cries, rushing forward. "Y-you can't! Just- just hold on! Please! Help will come."

The man gives a breathy laugh, choking on the blood pooling in his left lung. "Isn't it your… job to….. to take me?"

The boy stutters. "I-I'm not- It's not my job. I'm like you. E-except you have to keep fighting. You can't give up. You c-cant!"

The man studies the boy for a moment, then smiles. "No… You aren't… like me…... You shouldn't have died."

The boy shakes his head before looking desperately around for another living soul. There is only he and I here with the dying man, and we are not living.

No help is coming.

The boy starts crying as realisation dawns on him. He crashes to his knees before the body, kneeling over it with a bowed head.

"H-h-how?" The boy chokes out. "You're quirk. It sh-should have kept you safe! I-It should have warned y-you of danger. Five to six seconds, right? Y-you can predict any h-harmful action t-taken against y-y-you withi-in f-five to s-six se-"

"Kid." The man says, in a voice too powerful for the dying body. The boy freezes up, eyes wide and terrified. "It's okay. You don't need to be sad. I'm fine now. I'm at peace…."

He looks at me. "I'm ready."

The boy hiccups as he tries to grip the man's hand. Somehow, he does.

The soul is staying longer, flickering less. Fewer and fewer white threads hold the soul to its body. It is nearly time.

"N-no…. this isn't right. Who- who could have d-done this?"

"Does it…. matter?" The man asks. Out of the three of us, only the boy seems to think it does.

"What's done… is done…... Thanks though… for caring…... You're a good kid."

The man squeezes the boy's hand once, then it drops like led through his fingers.

The soul has now fully materialised.

The boy cries harder. I consider taking the soul, but stop. It is calm and peaceful, as ready for me to call it as any soul could be.

But the boy is not ready.

I lean over him and press gently down on his shoulder to get his attention. The boy refuses to look at me and continues to cry. Gently I take hold of his chin and guide his head upward. For a moment, the boy resist, eyes still looking away from me.

"Izuku."

Immediately his eye's snaps upward, wide green gaze filled with tears look at me startled and shocked. Behind the surprise I see wretched despair and grief. But there is hope still flickering in the center of his emerald gaze.

He stares up at me expectantly. I realise he has placed his hope in me. That I will somehow fix this, that something I might say or do will heal them both.

It is a lot of responsibility. I hope I do not fail.

I say nothing more to the boy, instead I direct his hand toward the red soul. The boy hesitates and looks to me one more time. Then I watch his eyes harden with determination and he gently but firmly takes the soul into his cupped palms.

The soul must recognise his touch, because it immediately responds by enveloping the boy with its calm presence, reassuring and comforting the boy. How strange to see the roles reversed. I think it is a good thing.

Finally the boy is no longer broken and is even smiling a little. It is a sad smile, but content at the same time. He hugs the soul close to his chest and whispers to it, "You _are_ a true hero," before releasing the soul and stepping back so that I could do my job.

I finish my work and take the boy and the soul away, looking back only once at the dark alleyway painted in red. I see the glimpse of a word smeared across the brick in blood. I had overlooked it before. So did the boy apparently. I whisk us away before he can see it. I can still see the letters though, glowing before me like a warning.

* * *

 **So instead of creating a whole new character to just kill them off right away I decided to pull one of my favourite characters from a different anime, place them into this world, and then promptly kill them...**

 **Can you guess who they ar- I mean, were?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary: Oda meets death and a ghost.**

* * *

This was not what Flawless thought death would be like.

Although everything leading up to it went pretty much as expected. Not that he had been expecting to die, or wanting to. A part of him still wished he could have retired like he had planned, bought that house near the sea and lived peacefully writing books. Once he had attonned for his past, once he had saved enough people and done enough good, then he could have had a happy ending.

This ending, however, is one he knows he deserves.

And it is brutal.

When the crazed man ambushed him in this alleyway, Flawless knew immediately who he was and what he planned to do. The man spoke of his own, impossible, crazy, unrealistic ideology. Of false heroes and the need to take action. Of Flawless' own dark past which apparently marked him a necessary sacrifice, one whose blood had to be spilled in order to achieve the mad man's utopia. Apparently the fact that Flawless was striving to redeem himself, to be a good person meant nothing.

Flawless was of a mind to agree. A part of him always knew that no matter what he did his sins would always cling to him.

Flawless did not have a strong drive to live, but neither did he want to die. A secret part of him might always have known there was no way to save himself, but he was still determined to be a hero. Helping people, saving others when he could not save himself was the only thing that gave Flawless hope.

And the Hero Killer was murdering people and would continue to do so until someone stopped him.

So they fought.

Flawless would have won. The Hero Killer was fast, but speed did not matter. Power did not matter. Precision did not matter. Flawless could dodge any attack. Few could compete with his quirk.

But every quirk has a weakness and Flawless had suspected from the beginning that the Hero Killer knew his strengths and weaknesses- he had been studied.

The killers movements were all wrong. He moved to injure, yes. Flawless' quirk would not have been activating otherwise. But it was as if the Hero Killer did not expect to ever land a hit.

There was a trap set up somewhere in this alleyway. Flawless knew it. He could feel himself dancing at the edge of danger, one miss step away from death.

So he fought to end it quickly, his vow and need for redemption the only thing keeping him from putting a bullet straight through the man's forehead. Instead he used what skills he had learned in the art of combat. He was careful, quick, and precise with his movements.

Victory was a breath away when it happened.

The Hero Killer must have been watching for a while, waiting for Flawless to injure himself out on the field.

The mad man suddenly darted forward, every muscle in the man's body schreaming intent to harm. Yet Flawless' quirk did not activate. That is why he hesitated.

That is how the killer was able to get close. That is how the killer smeared Flawless' own blood onto his hands. That is how the Hero Killer, after stalling for five seconds, was able to ingest just a drop of Flawless' blood.

And that is how Flawless ended up crumpled on the ground, body frozen and unresponsive as the mad man stalked closer to him.

Flawless had not even noticed that his wound from a recent fight had reopened during their battle or that blood had seeped through the bandages. He had been so focused on his attacker and on the alleyway around him, hyper aware of any hidden traps, that he had neglected to take stalk of his own body.

To make matters worse, he wasn't even dying saving anyone. He was dying because he could not save himself.

How fitting, he thinks. It's strangely poetic.

Dazai always did say he had the flare for the dramatics. Ah, there was one comfort. Maybe Flawless would finally get to see his dear friend again.

The next twenty minutes are pure torture. Flawless knows everything the killer is going to do to him. He knows ever stab, every slice, every twist of the blade before it comes. What is worse is he knows exactly what he needs to do to avoid, to keep his precious blood in his body.

But he cannot move.

All he can think is that this must be his punishment for heartlessly and efficiently killing people just because it was his job. For not caring that what he did for a living hurt other people. For being too late to rescue the children he had sworn to protect. For failing to save his only friend. For believing, even for a moment, that he could possibly redeem his sin soaked soul.

Finally it is over. The killer leaves and Flawless is left- (No, not Flawless. That is a name of a hero. He is no hero.) -Oda is left lying on the ground, his body and blood set up as an example like all the others the Hero Killer has ended.

There is nothing Oda can do but wait now for the end.

He is not expecting to hear a voice.

"Flawless!"

Oda opens his eyes and looks.

First he sees a dark spirit. He knows immediately who- what that is. Relief that his life and this pain is almost over washes over him.

Movement catches his eye and Oda's eyes travel down to the one who must have spoken and is surprised to see it is a boy. The child is obviously a spirit based on his rather transparent appearance. His form is glowing a faint green while his eyes flicker and shine as if it were made of an emerald fire.

Their gazes meet and both stare. The spirit child's face is an open book. Eyes wide and terrified, Oda can read perfectly the genuine concern this little spirit feels for him. What he cannot understand is why the kid would be so emotional over him.

It doesn't matter though, the child has come with death and Oda does not want to wait any longer. He sighs and smiles, ready for the pain to end and his miserable life to be extinguished.

The boy must have seen the resignation in his eyes because the little green spirit cries out, "No! Y-you can't! Just- just hold on! Please! Help will come."

The boy's honest emotions, open heart, and genuine care for his well being strikes a nerve with Oda. Children were always his weak spot and this one reminds him of the orphans he failed so long ago. They were good kids too. They had not deserved to pay for his mistakes.

Oda chokes on a bitter laugh. Is this apparition which has taken the appearance of an innocent boy another form of his punishment? It seems almost too cruel. Why won't death finish its work instead of standing in the corner like a silent spectator, dragging out his agonising suffering.

"Isn't it your… job to….. to take me?"

The reaper does not answer. It does not move. The child does, though.

The spirit kid's hands move wildly in panic and he stutters out a jumble of words, "I-I'm not- It's not my job. I'm like you. E-except you have to keep fighting. You can't give up. You c-cant!"

Ah. Oda understands now. The kid isn't an apparition. He's a ghost.

The kid couldn't save himself- just like Oda.

"No…" Oda smiles, a sour taste is in his mouth. "You aren't… like me…... You shouldn't have died..."

'You shouldn't have needed to save yourself,' goes unsaid.

The boy does not believe Oda. He doesn't want to. Poor kid looks around as if somehow help will come.

But Oda knows his time is up.

The reaper is drawing nearer.

The boy finally realises that no help will come and he breaks down, crying on his knees over Oda's dying body. Words spill and mix with his sobs as he says how wrong the situation is, how this should not have happened.

Oda feels his heart clench for the boy. The kid shouldn't feel so sorry for him. He shouldn't be so broken up about this. He shouldn't be calling Oda a hero. He's not Flawless, never really was.

The kid needs to move on and forget about him. He's not worth such sorrow.

But Oda can already tell what type of person this kid is. He is selfless. The kind that is self harming in order to help or protect others. The kind that blames themselves when others suffer.

Oda can't let that happen. He can't let anyone else suffer because of him. He has to help this boy. One last time he will do some good.

Gathering up strength Oda speaks with a voice he has not used since the Mimic incident that destroyed him so many years ago and put in his place something hollow and not quite alive.

"Kid."

The boy stops. His attention is immediately trained on Oda.

"It's okay. You don't need to be sad. I'm fine now. I'm at peace…. I'm ready."

He says this last part to the silent reaper which seems to nod back at him.

Then there is a soft warmth gripping his hand and suddenly it is the only thing Oda can feel. The boy is holding on to him and he can feel the child's empathy through the touch. He can also feel just how scared the kid is.

"N-no…. this isn't right. Who- who could have d-done this?"

"Does it…. matter?" Oda smiles to hide his spark of fear. Oda does not want the boy anywhere near the Hero Killer. He doesn't want the kid go looking for his killer, to seek revenge, to allow Oda's death to haunt him. Oda knows what it is like to be haunted by your failures. He doesn't want this innocent boy to take on such a burden, even if the kid is already dead.

Oda struggles to breath, but manages to get the words out "What's done is done…... Thanks though… for caring…... You're a good kid."

Then Oda squeezes the child's hand in comfort. It is the first move he makes since being paralyzed by the Killer. It is the last move he makes in life.

A peace washes over him. Pain slips away and Oda is ready to rest.

He dies.

Something is holding him back, however. Even though he knows he is dead, Oda is still aware of the kid. He senses their sadness, feels their tears. He feels the reaper too and realises that the dark spirit is not actually death- though he has no name for it.

Then Oda feels a touch and realises the boy is reaching out to him once more. Like before he can feel the boy's emotions. But now it is so much stronger, he can sense and read so much more.

Oda learns everything about the boy. His deep driving love, adoration, and care for his mother. His need to be useful and to help people. To do the right thing just because it is right. His unmeasurable drive and determination fueled by a hope so strong that nothing could break it. His compassion and empathy which overflow in him and push him to seek out others and help them no matter what. His brilliant analytical mind. His drive to always be better and strive to become more. His dream to become a hero who inspires people and always smiles despite how dark times may get.

Oda also sees the darker parts. His fragile self esteem which had been chipped away by years of bullying and being told he was worthless, useless, nothing. His little self regard for his own safety because he believes the nasty words that say he isn't worth it. The conditioned belief that he is worthy of everyone's scorn, that he has to prove himself to be loved instead of just being accepted for who he is. The kid holds no scorn for his abusers, instead turning all his negative emotions onto himself as if it is he who is at fault.

He realises that the boy is the perfect hero- as perfect a hero that can come out of this broken world.

He also realises how much validation and comfort this kid needs.

So he gives it to him. Oda poors emotions into the boy, filling him with his own peace and calm to try and wash away the fear and sadness. He comforts the boy, cradles the kids fragile heart which he knows has always been so open, giving and giving even when there is almost nothing else to give. Oda tries to fill up the cracks in his self esteem, to mend the hurt in his heart. He lets the boy know that he is good, amazing, beautiful, and worth the world. He is not useless.

But this emotional link goes both ways and just as Oda now knows everything about the boy, the boy knows everything about him.

If helping this boy was not so important, Oda might feel ashamed and try to pull away. But Oda must help this boy- even if he can only bolster the boys confidence a little it will be worth it.

you can still be a hero kid

how

by doing what you have been doing all along

helping people

being there for them

comforting them

you helped me after all

you are a hero too

no kid

i'm not

you are

you have helped people

you have saved people

you helped me too after all

"You _are_ a true hero."

* * *

 **So I do not usually do this, but here it goes.**

 **I am sure you've noticed by now that Class 1-A is one student short now that Izuku is… dead. I need your help in picking a student to fill that spot.**

 **You can either pick a student from Class 1-B or maybe someone you saw in the entrance exam who looked really cool but didn't seem to have made it. This student is not going to be playing a large role- I'll just be referencing their quirk and including them in some of the major events (like USJ).**

 **There are a few students who will not be available for voting because 1) they would create problems with the natural flow of the class, 2) poor Aizawa does not deserve all of the top ten entrance exam students crammed into his class, and 3) *spoilers*.**

 **The Unvotables**

 **-Monoma Nieto**

 **-Kendou Itsuka**

 **-Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu**

 **-Hatsume Mei**

 **-Shinsou Hitoshi**

 **Totally Votables**

 **-Awase Yousetsu**

 **-Sen Kalbara**

 **-Kamakiri Togaru**

 **-Kuroiro Shihai**

 **-Koudai Yui**

 **-Komori Kinoko**

 **-Shiozaki Ibara**

 **-Shishida Jurota**

 **-Shoda Nirengiki**

 **-Tsunotori Pony**

 **-Tsuburaba Kosai**

 **-Tokage Setsuna**

 **-Fukidashi Manga**

 **-Honenuki Juzo**

 **-Bondo Kojiro**

 **-Yanagi Reiko**

 **-Rin Hiryu**


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary:**

 **When one's job revolves around death, it is highly likely that you will bump into a villain now and again…**

 **Or step right into their lair.**

* * *

The moment I see the surroundings of this new appointment I am worried. All the souls around us are dark, greasy, infected, and twisted from where they broke and never managed to fix themselves. As if to reflect these horrible souls that reside here the place is dark, cold, and bare of anything that might give one a feeling of warmth.

We are in a villain lair.

I consider for a moment ditching this appointment…. Because the boy does not need to see this. But I cannot. Even the thought is painful to me and goes against all of my instincts.

Still, it would be nice if I could actually pick and choose the souls I reap.

The boy seems to have picked up on the dark mood (how could one not) and shrinks in close to me. I can feel his fear strongly rolling and twisting within him.

Determined to get this job done with as soon as possible I search around for the soul I am to reap. I find it. Surprisingly it is not dead… even more surprising is the fact that it was just a second ago.

The body the soul was housed in is being reformed in front of us. White strings materializing from thin air and anchor to the soul, pulling it down back into the body as it reforms. The moment the lungs have been properly reformed the soul lets the world know the excruciating pain it is going through with a bleeding scream. Limbs reform, muscle appears and wraps around bone, then skin stretches across body.

The air is heavily scented with blood.

The boy takes a step forward, hand reaching out as if meaning to help in some way. But he cannot help, and neither can I. The soul has already been bound back to its body.

My appointment is cancelled. Someone has interfered. I am **furious**.

I see the bed of metal. The cuffs holding it down. The chains and blood stains on the wall. This isn't just a lair…. It's a torture chamber.

The body has reformed and one of the villains lifts his hand away from the screaming human. I narrow my sight onto this human and see that this is the one who has just taken away my appointment. The human plays with its quirk, rebuilding and taring down again the soul I was supposed to reap.

I want to **destroy this miserable being**. I want to **erase** that **quirk** which has gotten in my way.

But I cannot touch it. It is alive and it's soul is firmly anchored to its mortal coil. I hate quirks. Such troubling things giving people like this scum so much power.

The villains soul is placid, smooth and glimmering on the surface. Below, however, there is a storm churning. Deep purple twists with hints of blood red as it seems to suck all light and hope away like a black hole.

(I have never been to space. There is little reason to since I do not have jurisdiction outside of earth. But Izuku has explained in depth to me what space is, stars, novas, moons. I think I might like to go there one day).

Instinctively I pull the boy closer to me, draping myself around him so that he is almost completely hidden. I do not want this wicked, life-eating soul to go near my boy.

Surprisingly the boy pushes away from me, fighting to get toward the villain and the writhing man being torchard.

"We have to help him!"

I hold him back. "We cannot."

"What? Why?" There is no disappointment or accusation in his voice, just confusion… and is that determination? Ah, he wishes to change my mind.

"My appointment is over." I say. "The soul was brought back and now alive. I cannot do anything."

The boy slumps and seems defeated, but there is still hope shining in his eyes. He has not given up.

His brow wrinkles together as he stares at the scene before him, thinking hard. I can hear him mumbling under his breath.

The villain does not seem pleased with his victim as he disintegrates the its side, the soul flickering above the man once more, white strings snapping and disappearing so that the soul becomes more free, floating higher above the body. But before the man can fully die the body is reformed and the soul disappears again.

The screaming will not stop.

Something must click because the boy looks up to me in his mind. He looks up at me, face set with fierce resolve. "Th-the threads! You said that they are anchors that keep the soul tethered to its body, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, all the souls you reap always have one of those threads still attached. You cut it before reaping them. Could you- could you perhaps do that with this soul… except instead of just getting rid of one anchor you get rid of them all? Would that work?"

"I cannot take a soul that is alive." I say.

"No! Y-you don't have to! But _that_ villain," there is such furry in his voice, "he keeps disintegrating the guy to- what I assume is- a molecular level, bringing the man to a state where he cannot possibly be alive anymore. Th-that's why the soul keeps flickering to view. And if the soul is appearing, no matter how fleeting, doesn't that mean the person is either dead or close to death? Couldn't you try to cut at it?"

I think. I would have to be fast and cut all the strings before it quivers back into the body. The downside is that I would probably miss my next appointment. Who knows when I will get another clean shot.

…

The boy is shaking. His eyes are wide with terror, an overflow of tears spilling down his cheeks. But despite the fear there is a green fire burning within. A righteous rage and desperate need to protect is filling him with steely determination.

His emotions are so strong. If I deny him here, will he break?

But I cannot miss my next appointment! I must… No. The end of the world would not come if I missed one appointment. This is more important. The boy is more important.

When did he become so important to me?

"Yes." I say. I do not regret my decision when I see hope in the boy's eyes brighten.

The man screams again as the villain's quirk takes apart the man's hand. The boy winces… closing his eyes tight, his hands clasping into fists.

"But you have to leave."

The boy looks startled. "Wha- where? Why?"

"I will take you to the Soul Station. I will retrieve you once I have the soul."

The boy bites his lip a little. "Wh-why do I have t-to go?"

"That is my deal." I say. "I will retrieve this soul if you leave."

He does not want to be left alone with all of the _others_. I see it in his expression. But I also can see that he is willing to make that sacrifice for the soul if necessary.

"But if you wish you may choose to wander away from here while I work instead of going to the Soul Station."

Of course this means more work for me later when I have to locate him. I am becoming such a softy.

The boy looks relieved as he gives me a curt nod, before turning around and phasing through the concrete walls of this prison chamber. He looks back and smiles hopefully at me before disappearing.

Worth it.

Once he is gone I step into the _In-between_ and then to the Soul Station. It is not long before I find an _other_ who will take care of my next two appointment. The _other_ is older than me and has known me all of my existence. I often go to this _other_ when I am in need of assistance… although, perhaps often is not the right word. I have not sought out help from the _other_ since the first millennia of my existence. I wish to be dependent.

"This is not like you," the other says. "Tell me, is something the matter?"

"No." I answer. "I merely need more time at one appointment."

"Ahh…" the _other_ nods knowingly. "The _others_ are also experiencing trouble with many souls that resist. It is this hero villain era which is creating such a numerous amount of emotional souls."

Yes, the boy is filled with emotions- although I know that is not the type of soul the _other_ is referring to.

I thank the _other_ (who looks at me in confusion at my words. It appears I am picking up some interesting habits from the boy) and leave. Stepping back into the physical world, I am immediately reminded of what unpleasant work lies ahead of me as I catch my appointment in mid scream.

Patiently I wait, but am displeased to see that the villain seems to be taking its time and keeps disintegrating and remaking parts of the body that are not life threatening should they suddenly disappear.

Time ticks and I am getting annoyed. I regret sending the boy away as I already miss his presence.

Then, the screaming halts as the villain chooses to disintegrate the head of my client. The soul wavers into view, white strings shining even as half of them snap away. I dive forward and lash out faster than the speed of light (or perhaps as fast, it is hard to tell sometimes).

The soul immediately solidifies into view. I barely have to call to it before it answers. It still has an emotion trapped within it, but I am willing to bear the feeling as the emotion is not negative.

It is relief.

Surprisingly, I feel some pleasure to see the villain puzzling over why its victim is dead even though it has reformed the body. It is rather put out. I grin.

I now turn my attention to locating the boy and am pleased to find he is close. Or perhaps I should be displeased. I sent him away because I did not want him distressed by these villains. Yet he is still within their lair.

No matter, I must away and get him. This job took longer then I would have wished even when I did make extra time for it. I am glad I had the _other_ take care of my next two appointments or else I would not have had time to get the boy.

In an instant I am there. I want to take the boy up and leave immediately, but stop when I see the boy and who he is with.

A child. There is a child in a physically brightly lit white room as cold and full of darkness as the torture chamber. The little girl has wavy unkempt white hair and a little horn peaking out at the side of its head. The soul that is nestled in its body is grey and fluttery. Golden flecks appear and fade from the center like phantoms. The soul is already cracked.

It is a large crack. I should have noticed it first with how grievous the wound is. But for some reason the ugly gash within the soul seems to be hiding itself… or perhaps, mending? Trying to at least.

What is most strange about this child and what is keeping me rooted in my place is the fact that the boy is holding- hugging the little human.

The soul is alive. It does not stand at the pinnacle between death and life. It is healthy.

That should not be possible.

The boy looks up at me and smiles. So warm. So bright. Yet I see sadness in his smile as well.

"Ichijorei-sama!" The boy greets me. The girl turns to look where the boy is. It does not see me. "This is Eri-chan! I'm her new friend."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary: A little girl discovers just what a touch of kindness means.**

* * *

Once upon a time (that is how stories start, right?) Eri had a father.

She does not remember if he was nice or mean or if he hurt her as much as Chisaki does. She only remembers that once she had a father and now she does not.

Chisaki says that he's her father now. He's not.

Besides knowing that she once had a father, Eri knows very little. She knows every corner of her little room. She knows the names of Chisaki's two right hand men. She knows that her quirk is a curse. She knows what death feels like. She knows how not to cry when Chisaki is thurting her. She knows how to not scream when he rips her apart into dust and brings her back.

After all, crying and screaming doesn't help. It doesn't make the pain stop nor move anyone to help her.

Eri knows that no one cares about her. She is cursed.

Even knowing all of this, Eri still knows that it is not much. There is more to know, more outside of this prison.

Sometimes she wished she didn't know. Knowing that there is something better out there than what she is living only makes the pain worse.

She knows it's out there (whatever it is), but she knows she can't have it.

And that is why she is crying.

She knows it will do no good, but she's not crying because she thinks it might help her. She's crying because the sadness is ripping her apart from the inside and bursting out and she cannot hold it in any longer.

This happens sometimes.

No one comes when she cries like this. She does not expect anyone to. So when someone does come, when she feels someone touch her, she is surprised.

She turns around, hair flying as she whips about to see who has snuck up on her. Is it time? Does Chisaki wish for her again? The spike of fear she feels causes her horn to light up, her quirk activating as light surrounds her. This terrifies her more. No one here is nice to her, but it still tears her apart with guilt to see others made into nothing because of her cursed quirk.

When her eyes can see no one the girl is convinced her quirk has already done its work and the tears start spilling from her eyes once more.

Except that she can still feel the touch.

And what a strange touch it is. It is gentle. Undemanding. It's only purpose seems to be just to be there. To touch… to… comfort?

That's when she hears the voice. At first she can only hear that the voice is there, not what it says. It does not stay that way though, slowly becoming clearer and clearer.

"I didn't mean to startle you." The voice is saying. "I'm sorry."

The touch leaves and all of a sudden Eri feels cold and so very alone.

"W-w-wait." She says. It's a plea, yet a whisper that barely floats upon the air.

The touch is gone and so is the voice. Tears are running down her eyes and she's crying again. It won't help. Her crying never helps.

Except, it does this time. The touch returns, only now it's more. She's being picked up. Held. Arms wrapping around her protectively as she is perfectly tucked into this strange embrace. There is no heat in this hold, not like what you might expect when pressed against another being. Instead there is a different kind of warmth, one that she has never felt before.

She has never been held like this. She has never received a kind touch.

The voice returns with the kind touch. "D-don't cry! I'm still here! I promise."

She is beginning to see something, a faint form and the glowing colour green. Looking up she sees the face of this person who is holding her. It's a boy. Barely visible, nearly translucent, more like a ghost then anything. But he's here. Even if he is a ghost he is here, holding her. And he's smiling so warmly at her, eyes alight with a tender kindness she has never seen before. Instinctively she snuggles deeper into his hug.

"Hi there," the ghost boy greats her. She wants to smile back. "My names Midoriya Izuku! W-what's yours?"

"Eri." She answers. Her voice is still so quiet. Then again, so is his- though she thinks that's more because he's a ghost then because he's being quiet.

"Do you live here Eri?" The ghost boy, Midori(?), asks.

She nods.

Midori does not seem happy by her answer as his kind smile is dampened by a small frown. She's done something wrong. She stiffens marginally, waiting for the fallout that is sure to come from upsetting him.

It never comes.

Instead Midori seems to read her mind (he's a ghost, so maybe he can) and smiles again, "Y-you didn't do anything wrong. It's okay. I'm not upset at you or anything. I just… I don't like this place very much so… well, I was hoping you didn't live here."

Oh, she wishes that too. But at least he wasn't upset at her. She does not want Midori to ever be upset at her. She wants his smile, even if it is a ghost smile.

"I…. I don't like it either." Eri admits.

"Why don't you leave?"

She shakes her head. "He… he doesn't want me to."

"Who's he?" The ghost boy asks.

"Overhaul." Eri tries to say the word as quietly as possible. She burrows deeper into Midori's hug, clutching to him as best she can. Its strange hugging a ghost. There's no flesh and no body heat, but she can still feel him. He can still bear her weight.

Eri thinks she prefers ghosts to humans.

"Eri, does Overhaul hurt you?"

She nods her head.

"Then why don't you run away. I can help you!"

At first she feels hope. Bright and wonderful, filling her up with joy. But just as quickly the hope dies and is filled with dread. She knows what happens to people that upset Chisaki. Once before she had tried to get away when he first started hurting her. He killed the one who had been set to watch her right in front of her eyes.

If she tried to run, Chisaki would kill Midori.

He's a ghost, but Chisaki is powerful. She does not doubt that he could hurt Midori if he wanted.

So instead of saying yes, instead of letting Midori try to take her away, she shakes her head adamantly.

"I-it's okay." Eri looks up at him pleadingly and tries to smile. She knows her smile is nothing like his. "I-I want to stay here."

He doesn't believe her. She wouldn't either.

The boy gets up off the bed and looks toward the door. His grip on her becomes more firm.

"N-no!" Eri clutches desperately at him. Her head shaking back and forth as she cries. "D-don't. I want to stay. I-I-I…"

"Eri." The way Midori says her name is as gentle and kind as the way he holds her. She can't let him get hurt. "Overhaul… he's a villain, isn't he."

It's not a question.

She doesn't say anything.

Midori looks down at her with his bright glowing emerald eyes and she is taken with how full of life they are. "I can't leave you here, Eri. I can get you to a hero. I can help you."

He would never make it. Chisaki would catch him. She has to stop him. She doesn't want to lose this ghost.

Eri has only ever had one wish before and that was to escape… to find an end to the pain and be free of Chisaki.

Now she wishes for nothing else but to keep the ghost boy from harm.

"He's my father!" She shouts. Her voice is still quiet so it's not a real shout, but it's just as desperate as one. "Chi-Overhaul… he… He's my father. They take c-care of me. I'm not in danger."

The lie tastes bitter. But there are truths in there. Chisaki does claim to be her father to outsiders (the few outsiders she sees do not last very long). And while he does hurt her- she's not in danger of dying… at least, not a dying that lasts.

She hides her face in his shoulder so Midori won't see the lie in her eyes. She cannot stop herself from shaking and she feels her stomach churn painfully. Midori hesitates as he holds her, his hand rubbing smoothing circles into her back. Its nice.

"Eri," The ghost says her name the way he holds her, gently. "I can't. If… if he's hurting you then it's not safe. I have to take you away from here. To protect you. Its… its what a hero would do."

Hero… she knows of heroes. It is a word that always causes a wrinkle in Chisaki's brow and a curse from any of his underlings. Chisaki hates heroes.

That's why she always liked that word. Now she liked it even more.

"No." she shakes her head, still burying her face in his shoulder. "P-please- please don't take me. I have to stay. Chi- F-father needs me here… I n-n-need to st-tay here. Please d-don't take m-m-me away. Plea-ease."

She's sobbing a little, body shaking. If she cannot convince him to leave her then he'll die. This gentle ghost will die.

"But your father, he's hurting yo-"

"No, he doesn't!" Eri lies again. She feels so, so sick. But there is a fire burning in her that gives her determination. A coolness mists over her from the outside, straightens her spine and hardening her resolve. She will save Midori. "He- he doesn't hurt me. I… It's just needles. The needles hurt but not too bad."

No, the needles are nothing compared to Chisaki's quirk.

"Why does he put needles in you?"

She doesn't want to tell him, doesn't want Midori to find out that she is cursed. He might leave her if he finds out her quirk is a curse. So she lies again, "Because I'm sick."

"Okay." He finally says and Eri cannot stifle the sigh of relief. "I won't take you away. But if… if anyone starts hurting you, you'll let me take you to heroes. Deal?"

She barely manages to nod her head.

"Good. Let's talk about something nicer. I didn't mean to make you so upset."

"It's okay." She mumbles into his shoulder. It really is okay, because she likes Midori so much and is just relieved she managed to keep him from getting himself caught. He's already dead, but Eri knows there are worse things than death.

"What do you do here? Do you play any games."

She shakes her head. Once again he seems upset so she quickly adds. "S-sometimes he gets me toys. They're in there."

Eri considers wiggling out of his arms to show him the toys but she wants to stay in his arms as long as possible. Instead she tugs at his shoulder and points harder at the wooden chest. Midori seems to get the idea as he floats them (Eri has discovered she likes flying) over to it. Leaning over Eri lifts up the lid to reveal pink Barbie dolls, Hello-Kitty figurines, several different coloured teddy bears, and a princess plastic tea set. All of them glare up at her in their perfect, shiny, and plastic wrappings.

"Why aren't they opened?" Midori asks.

Eri just shrugs. Chisaki is not kind. She knows everything he (or his followers) gives her does not come from the kindness of his heart.

The toys scare her.

The boy studies her face and seems to read something there because he smiles again, but this time there is understanding in his eyes. "That's okay. Besides, I just remembered a better game. My mom used to play it with me all the time. Here, can I have your socks."

Eri tilts her head to the side in confusion. Nevertheless she complies without question, pulling off her socks and giving them to Midori. Her confusion only grows when he uses a brand new crayon from her toy box to put two dots on either sock. Then he puts one sock on his hand and the other over hers.

"Look!" The boy holds up his sock covered hand and starts moving his thumb. Eri gasps when she suddenly realises the two dots have become eyes, the fingers hidden in the sock the mouth, and the shape of his hand a funny looking head.

"Hello little girl!" Midori moves his thumb and makes his voice sound funny. Eri feels a little confused, trying to figure out why Midori is being so weird.

"Hi."

"I'm Shin the Sock Puppet! What's your name?" Her brow wrinkles as she looks at him and then the sock puppet. Midori already knew her name. Why is he- oh! Eri thinks she gets it! He's pretending the sock is talking to her and not him. She decides to play along.

"Eri."

" It's a pleasure to meet you, Eri." Midori- no, the sock says. "Tell me, have you seen my little sister, Saki the Sock Puppet? She looks just like me, but smaller. I've been looking everywhere for her but I just can't find her. Oh, where could she have gone?"

It takes a moment, but Eri realises that Mido- er, Shin the Sock Puppet is referring to her own sock covered hand. She thrust the hand up and tries to make the same hand shape Midori has made. She doesn't think she can talk with it though. She's never played this game and doesn't want to mess up and do it wrong.

"Oh! There you are Saki! Quick! You have to help me finish getting groceries for dinner. What should we have to eat?"

Eri continues to hold her sock puppet up ramrod straight.

"I know!" Shin the Sock Puppet waggled his head in excitement. Eri thinks it funny how into this silly game Midori seems to be. "How about little toes! They are my favourite! Oh look! Here are some! Come help me pick some."

At this Eri gets a little worried. She wondering if these sock puppets will turn out to be villain sock puppets since they eat toes.

The sock puppet Midori is controlling dives down and started wiggling her toes. At first Eri just watches. It doesn't hurt, not with how soft the fabric is of her her socks or how gentle Midori is being… but it does feel funny. It… kind of… tickles. Eri flicks her toes then she starts squirming and giggling. And then she's laughing. Not loud of course, she is still conscious that even if she feels safe and happy here somewhere past her door is Chisaki exists. So she must always be careful even now.

But in her room there is just Midori so she feels safe enough to quietly laugh here with him.

She's not laughing alone for long. Midori joins in and she marvels a bit at how wonderful his laugh is. She wants to imitate it if she can. Can one imitate a laugh? Or would that be wrong?

Then all thoughts leave her as Midori changes tactics. He loses the sock puppet and begins tickling her sides. If her toes had seemed ticklish, Eri now realises her sides are ten times more. For a moment, for a wonderful moment, she forgets Chisaki and loses herself to laughter.

"S-stop! Stop!" Eri calls when she began to have a harder time breathing. She wants to catch her breath, and yet she doesn't really want this fun to stop.

Midori does stop tickling her, but she doesn't- can't stop laughing because suddenly the boy whisks her up into the air and spins her around. Then they are both tumbling back onto the bed, breathless but full of smiles.

Eri takes this moment to snuggle into his arms a bit more, eyes closed as she basks in this new feeling. She knows her quirk is active, can see the light show playing off of Midori's own green glow. But for once she is not afraid. Midori is already dead (at least, she thinks that's how ghosts work) so she doesn't have to worry about him disappearing because of her cursed quirk.

Suddenly, something changes in Midori. His head snaps up and he looks to her right. "Ichijorei-sama!" He calls out a name in greeting.

Afraid that someone had come in and seen Midori (Chisaki would capture him for sure if he ever discovered her ghost friend) Eri follows his gaze.

She sees no one.

Apparently Midori does, though. He lifts her up a little as if to present her to someone. Eri realises that if one ghost could exist as Midori does, then others might be out there as well. She hopes they are as nice as Midori. "This is Eri! I'm her new friend."

Happiness swells within her at his words and she beams up at him. He smiles in return and strokes a hand through her hair.

Everything he does is comforting and gentle.

Than, things change. Midori's face becomes sad and she can feel his spirit dimming, the green glow cast about her lessen. She doesn't know what (or if) the other ghost is speaking, but she feels the need to hold Midori closer.

"Eri," Midori finally speaks. He is looking at her worriedly. She already knows what he is going to say. Realistically she knew this had to happen. He couldn't stay forever or Chisaki would discover him.

"I…. I have to go."

Eri nods and crawls out of his lap. She doesn't want to, but she makes herself do it. She hasn't received her meal yet today which means someone should be coming soon. Midori needs to leave before he gets caught. She's kept him to herself too long. Now it is time to let him go.

Midori grasps her hand, pulling her attention back to him. He smiles brightly at her, eyes glimmering warmly. "But I promise to come back. Okay?"

Many people have tried to make promises to her before. Promises are just words. Words are only as truthful as their speaker wants them to be. Promises to her mean nothing.

But…. But Midori is different. She knows- no, she trusts that his words will always be truthful. She trusts that his promises mean something. She trusts this, just as she trusts he would- could never hurt her. She believes this about him as if it were an undeniable fact. Her trust is so strong it feels more like knowing than just believing.

She is filled with hope.

She nods and smiles up at him to show him her trust, her faith, her hope.

Tears gather in his eyes. He is crying (ghosts can cry). "I will come back."

Reaching up a hand, she pats the top of his head just as he had done for her (she hopes she's doing it right). "I know you will."

Her words seem to comfort him as he dives down to give her one last hug. Then he steps away and is gone.

Just…. gone.

The room is so much more empty than it ever had been before.

Eri takes off the sock, Saki, still on her hand. She picks up the other, Shin, where it had fallen to the floor during their tickling. She hides them under her pillow. They are not just socks anymore, they are Saki the Sock Puppet and Shin the Sock Puppet. They are special to her now, and she feels the need to hide them from Chisaki. Chisaki has only ever destroyed the good things in her life.

Besides the socks there is nothing else to hint that Midori ever even existed.

Eri knows that there is very little that she knows about the world. However, she does know some things. She knows that Chisaki is not her father despite what he claims to others. She knows that no one here can be trusted. She knows that Chisaki will never stop hurting her. She knows that a ghost named Green really does exist and is her friend. She knows that he will come back again because he can be trusted. She knows that no matter what she will protect her _friend_ against Chisaki.

Most of all, she knows what a gentle touch feels like.

* * *

 **Shin** **and Saki the Sock Puppets:**

 **So I actually picked out meaningful names for these silly sock puppets.**

 **真 (shin) means 'real' or 'genuine.' I chose this kanji because it's important for Eri to remember that Izuku is real and most of all genuine in every sense of the word.**

 **咲 (sa) which means 'blossom' and 希 (ki) for 'hope'. Because from this moment on hope has begun to blossom in Eri.**

 **Midori:**

 **Most of you probably know this but 緑 (midori) is the word for green in Japanese.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary: Ichijorei and Izuku discover what ghosts are.**

* * *

"I don't get it!" The boy cried in exasperation, throwing his hands into the air.

"Neither do I." I say. There is a lot I do not understand about the boy.

A boyfriend is crying over his newly departed sweetheart whose soul I have just reaped. Izuku is trying to comfort the man, but like always no one can see him. Or hear him. Or even feel him since he keeps going straight through them everytime he tries to reach out.

The boy is getting frustrated.

We have spent enough time dawdling at this appointment and it I have to leave. The boy doesn't complain as I take us away from the scene without warning him first. He is too busy mumbling to himself to seem to notice his surroundings anyway.

"It wasn't just a fluke, we know that. I've visited Eri-chan several times already and she usually notices me fairly quickly. It could be her quirk, but Eri-chan seemed really sure her quirk couldn't affect me. Not that she's told me what her quirk is. She's so afraid of it which just isn't right. I bet her quirk is really cool. Anyway, even if Eri-chan hasn't told me about her quirk, she was rather insistent that it has nothing to do with making things tangible. And since she cannot see you I know her quirk doesn't let her interact with the supernatural. So that means that I must be the one doing this. But what am I doing? What's different that allows me to interact with Eri-chan but no one else? At first I thought it might be emotion activated since emotions seem to play a huge part whenever I interact with dead souls, but that doesn't seem to be working. There must be something I'm missing- some clue I don't understand yet."

I myself have given up trying to understand any of this. It should not be possible for dead souls to interact with the living. Then again, everything about the boy is impossible.

Thus why I have given up trying to comprehend anything the boy does.

The boy is still mumbling to himself as I deposit the most recent soul into the Portal of Lights and then pull the child along with me toward my next appointment (he just floats along as I tug at his arm, completely unaware) when an _other_ stops me. Ah, it is the one I sought help from before. Time to repay my debt no doubt.

… Great.

"I have two souls I would like you to take care of for me." The _other_ says. Two souls, how will I ever get both done as well as my own workload? This is really annoying.

"One is going to be a murder," the _other_ continues talking. "While the second is a suicide. Based on the events of their death I predict that they will be rather difficult to call which is why I am giving them to you."

And it gets worse.

"How do you know?"

The _other_ and I both start in surprise, before turning to look where the boy is hovering beside me. The boy blushes at the sudden attention, but is too curious to back down.

"I-I don't mean to be rude, but i-i-it's just that Ichijorei-sama never knows beforehand the deaths of the souls we have an appointment with… or even what the souls will be like. So how can y-you predict the way the souls will react after their death or e-even how they die?"

The _other_ stares mutely at the boy in what I presume must be shock. So I am the one to speak up.

"It is not that I cannot know all of these details beforehand," I explain to the boy. "Rather, I choose not to. It is how I prefer to work. There are many _other_ who choose to remember small details like the souls type of death so that they can attempt to predict how much time they may need to give for each appointment."

The boy's eyes widen in surprise. "Wait! If you can do that, why don't you? It seems so much more efficient to give each soul their own time frame depending on the appointment."

"Because humans are hard to predict." I make sure to give the boy a pointed look. He has the decency to smile sheepishly at me. "And even the oldest of us are often caught off guard when a soul which should have come easily puts up resistance. That is why I much prefer giving all of my appointments buffer room so that if one runs longer then expected I will not necessarily be late for the next."

Understanding lights in the boy's eyes and he smiles as he prepares to say something else. He is cut off, however, by the other who seems to have recovered from the shock of having a dead soul talk. What the other says, however, is not directed at the boy but at me.

"How did you come to be haunted by a ghost?"

…. Ghost?

"What is ghost?" I ask. The boy himself seems just as surprised as me, though he is also eager. He leans forward excitedly, floating closer to the _other_ and drifting a bit away from me. The look in his eyes is hungry, no doubt ready to devour whatever new information the _other_ might give him. "Does that mean there are others like me? Have you seen them? Do you have any information about what limitations or advantages I might have in this form?"

The _other_ pointedly looks away from the boy, focusing instead on me. "No one has ever told you?"

The boy shrinks back a bit at being so ignored and dismissed by the _other_. I am a bit irked by the _other's_ behavior, but decide to let the matter slide.

"No. I have never heard of what a ghost is," I answer.

"It is a surprise that you have not stumbled upon one before this." The _other_ says. "Even more so that the phenomenon has not been explained to you before now. There is little knowledge to understand about ghosts. But what there is I will share with you. They are human souls that do not move on after death. While most of human souls that resist our call are powered by a single emotion, ghosts are powered by a deep wish or desire. When any _other_ attempts to reap them, the soul takes form. The ghosts which I have met all were driven by a desire for revenge. There was one that wished to protect its living child. It is common for ghosts to attach itselves to living souls and haunt whether to seek revenge or to protect according to the wish which it had made before dying. It is important to note that those that do latch on to the living last longer, but all eventually either move on of their own choice and become reaped, or eventually. According to my knowledge, never has a ghost latched onto an _other_. I must ask, what did you do to make a ghost haunt you?"

"N-no," the boy chokes. "I-I'm not haunting Ichijorei-sama! I don't want revenge or anything like that!"

"Then what is your wish?" I ask. "What is your desire? Is there someone you wish to protect?"

"No… I mean, maybe? I don't know! I don't remember making any wish when I died. I mean, I regret that my death meant my mom suffered, but if that is why I turned into a ghost wouldn't I be… you know… h-haunting her?"

The boy's question is aimed at the _other_ , but the _other_ is still ignoring him.

"Do you know anymore about haunting or how it works?" I ask the _other_.

"No." The _other_ says. "As I have said, there is little to known about ghosts and how they work. Perhaps if you tell me how the ghost died I may help you. Once we find out the ghost's wish then you may find a way to fulfill it and it will stop haunting you."

I am uncomfortable with the way that the _other_ is talking about the boy.

"W-well," The boy begins to explain, his hands rubbing the back of his head fingers tugging at his hair nervously. "I was walking home from school when this villain attacked me. He… he used his quirk to try and take over my body and… and s-suffocated me. Before I… before I d-died I remember being really scared and knowing that I wasn't going t-t-to make it. I hated… hate myself for not being able to do anything. I c-couldn't even s-save myself. I was useless…. like usual."

By the end the boy is speaking in a whisper. He seems to have shrunk into himself and refuses to look at me directly. He doesn't finish and I do not want him to. It is obvious talking about his death is painful to him, so I decide that I should be the one to do it to keep my boy from feeling anymore hurt.

"When I called to him, he did not respond. So I touched his soul and he took form. Since then I have been bringing him around with me to my appointments."

"Wait." The _other's_ word snaps through the air harshly. "Am I correct in that you said that you have been bringing the ghost along with you? Has not the ghost been following you?"

"Well, yes?" I am not sure of my answer.

"And the ghost stays close to you no matter how you have tried to lose it?"

"Lose it? I haven't tried to-"

"I can leave his side," the boy pipes up. "A while ago I left to check up on my mom when I recognised where I was. Oh, and I met Eri-chan while exploring a villain base."

The _other_ frowns. "That is not possible. When a ghost haunts something, it teathers its soul to that thing and cannot stray from its side. Therefore, this ghost is not haunting you. IBut now I am only further confused. Why does it follow you and why do you let it?"

...

I think I am beginning to see where I may have gone wrong with this. "Well… I suppose he is not following me, as you say. I am the one bringing him with me. When he first became a ghost, I chose to keep him close for when he might answer my call."

The _other_ seems shocked. "You did not leave it? Why? That is what we all do when our appointment turns into a ghost. Did you not sense the beacon end, no longer drawing you to the soul? You should have known that meant your appointment was over and the soul was no longer your responsibility."

I was wrong… All of this time I had been afraid that I made a mistake and now I see that I had. Apparently it would have been fine- right even to leave the boy and go on to my other appointments.

The boy looks up at me with wide eyes, tears already glistening- threatening to spill down. "So… you were supposed to… to leave me…. all alone?"

…

No. That is wrong. This is wrong. They are wrong.

What if I am not the one who made the mistake? What if it is all of the _others_ who are mistaken? It does not feel like a mistake to have not left the boy alone to wander endlessly. Having the boy beside me seems right. It feels right.

Did it always feel so right?

I pull my boy closer to comfort him. He hugs me and I feel the disquiet, fear, and sadness which was fluctuating around him melt away. The boy smiles up at me and we are both content… well, I am content with our situation. My boy is happy.

I turn my attention back to the _other_ who is staring curiously at us. I may disagree on what the _other_ has said, but there is still more information I can gain from this conversation.

"What else is there that you know about ghosts?"

"They are incorpreal and invisible to living souls similar to us. Unlike us, however, they cannot interact with other souls whatsoever. There are a few I have heard of that have managed at times to influence inanimate objects and even elements such as wind or fire, but that is rare."

"W-what about souls that have passed?" The boy asks. "Can they- I mean, can I interact with those?"

"No." The _other_ says frankly. "No ghost can interact with any soul, living or dead."

The _other_ sounds so sure about this, like it is an undeniable truth. And it is. I feel its truth inside of me. It is a law woven into the constructs of our world. There is no denying now that it has been spoken that only _others_ can interact with souls of the dead. It is the way things should be.

It is not, however, the way things _are_.

"But…" the boy speaks hesitantly. "I can."

I nod my head in agreement.

The _other_ considered the boy for a moment, studying him. "Then you are an impossibility."

I already knew that.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary: Ochaco's quirk allows her to cancel out gravity, causing things to rise. But what goes up must eventually _fall_ down.**

* * *

Ochaco stands upon the edge facing the deep waters of the ocean. The high noon sun catches the crest of waves causing the ever shifting wrinkles of the crystal blue expense of water to glisten and twinkle. Against the ocean is a bright blue sky spotted with pearly white clouds.

A breeze heavy with the sent of salt sweeps through her hair and whispered in her ears. Other then that there is no noise.

The city lies behind her, her back to the tall buildings and bustling streets filled with life.

Ochaco takes a deep breath, then looks down. The ground is far away, four stories in fact. Her knees feel weak and knock together, but she isn't afraid of the height.

She's afraid of what she's about to do.

Closing her eyes, Ochaco takes another deep, shaky breath. Even now she remembers emthat/em day so well. Every detail is crystal clear. The thick powdery concrete that clogged up her throat and clung to her body. The smell of stone, grease, and sweat. The chilling cold as a literal giant of metal blocked out the sun and cast her in darkness, looming above her. There is so much inside of her. So much churning and burning. The overwhelming sense of doom that weighed down as heavily on her as the debris that had her pinned helpless to the ground. The way she could feel her own heartbeat thumping wildly in her chest so that she felt as if the pulse under her skin might burst and drown her. The cracking and burning soreness in her throat from desperately crying.

Tears began flowing once more from her red rimmed eyes, causing the girl to curse herself for being so weak that even thinking of the entrance exam would make her cry.

"I-I'm so stupid." Ochaco sobbed as she fights to get her emotions back in control. "C-can't even think about m-my failure without crying. How d-did I ever th-think I could become a hero anyway? C-couldn't even save myself."

And it was true.

When she told her parents all those years ago her wish to help them, to become a hero who might be able to provide for them, they had tried to warn her. She sees that now. They told her not to worry about it. They tried to make her forget just how poor they were. Encouraged her to try and just enjoy her childhood. They told her to follow her dreams without worrying about them.

For a long time Ochaco thought that her parents had always just wanted her to have career that would make her happy. Now she wonders if they knew the whole time that she could never make it as a hero.

Of course they had become supportive during her second year of middle school when she got them to see that helping them financially would make her happy. That they weren't holding her back from following her dreams. Becoming a hero was her dream.

They gave up so much for her after that so she could follow her dream. Her father sacrificed his work hours so he could work with her to practice and hone her quirk (him having a similar gravitation quirk to hers). Her mother working extra hours to make up for the time father lost so they could still keep up with the bills (barely). Both dipping into their savings to buy an apartment in Musutafu so she could go to school.

The apartment was more expensive than their previous home. There was a high demand of people wanting to live in Musutafu for the very same reason her family moved into the city. U.A. was the best hero school and her parents wanted the best for her. Sadly that meant finding a home near the high school was hard and very expensive. Yet her parents still made the sacrifice and they moved at the end of her last semester.

All of this, though it made her feel supported and loved, increased her guilt for once again her parents were sacrificing everything for her.

Her birth had not been a planned one and even though her parents had known how hard it would be to raise a child on their small penchant, they had tried their hardest to make it work. To make it worse Ochaco was born prematurely and very, very sickly. Most of her early childhood was spent within the white washed walls of a hospital being seen by specialist after specialist. Her parents bore the burden admirably and never once complained or even mentioned those hard times to her.

But all through her childhood she watched them struggle to deal with the consequences of her life. She saw the bills which her parents were still trying to pay off even today. She saw them sell family heirlooms and even shares of their business just to keep afloat. She guiltelly filled her stomach with food while her parents assured her they had already eaten and weren't hungry anyway (she knew they were lying). She snuck down at night to listen as her mother crying over another white envelope and her father tried to reassure her that they would find a way.

All her life Ochaco watched as they sacrificed for her again and again. And now, with here dream to be a hero, her wish to enter U.A. she once again she made their already difficult lives harder with her dream to be a hero.

But Ochaco was able to keep the guilt at bay with the belief that when she became a hero she would be able to pay them back ten folds and they would never have to worry again.

She saw herself as their investment, a long project that though a risk promised a high pay day at the end (her dad did own a construction business, so little wonder that she thought in these terms).

And that is why Ochaco now stands atop a high building with not a soul nearby to witness her tears.

The past week had been the most nerve racking of her life. It caused her to realise just how much she needed that acceptance letter from U.A. or everything her parents had done for her would be for nothing.

Yesterday she got the letter.

She failed. She failed to get into the hero course of U. A. Academy.

Her world came crashing down on her. Everything fell apart.

When her parents got home, she couldn't bare to tell them of her failure. So she hid the letter.

They noticed her mood of course, but they misunderstood it. That evening she had to sit and listen as her parents told her again and again that they believed in her. That she had made them so proud. That the letter would surely arrive soon and then she would see that she had nothing to worry about. Everything would turn out fine.

The guilt only grew at their encouraging words, their kind smiles, their supportive hugs.

This morning she had smiled for them. She tried to be her normal cheerful self. She greeted them chipperly at breakfast, hugged and wished them well as they left for work. Smiled sweetly when they reminded her that her letter could come today and to wait to open it until they got back that night.

Then the door closed and the house was thrown into a barren silence.

It bore down on her, crushed her, reminded her of her failure, left her fighting with her innerdemons until she could battle them no longer.

So she left the house unseeing, her thoughts of despair the only thing she could register. She wandered without looking at her environment around her or registering where her feet where taking her. Only one thing drove her to take step after step. To get away. To escape this guilt that was eating her within. To flee forever from the coming disappointment when her parents would find out she failed. To run and run and run until she never had to face the failure of her own existence.

And now she stands at the edge of a tall building, the world spread out before her. The day is perfect. Everything so beautiful. The air refreshing. The sun warm. The sky bright. The clouds fluffy.

Ochaco thinks it so wrong that the world seemed so happy when she feels so broken.

She takes another shaky breath, tightly shuts her eyes against the bright sun, lifts her hands above her head, brings the tips of her fingers together, and begins to rise.

Higher and higher she goes. The air becomes colder, the wind harsher, the feeling of isolation and despair greater.

It's so silent up here, so calming. It's strange what she's feeling right now. Nothing. A complete removal of her mind from her body. Something tells her she's completely shut down. If she opens her eyes now a part of her believes she would see her own body rising up, and up, and up into a clear blue sky.

The wind buffets her harshly the higher she goes. At first she doesn't notice. She can feel nothing after all. But it continues to pull at her, to bit into her skin, tear through her garments, howl in her ears, and yank wildly at her hair.

It's almost as if it were trying to get her attention. A frown mars her face and for the first time since her feet left that rooftop all those years, minutes, millenia, moments ago she feels something.

Annoyance.

Then out of nowhere a simple, clear, horrible thought strikes at her mind.

 _I don't want to die._

Whatever calm, whatever resolution she had been feeling a moment ago is shattered in that moment.

Her eyes snap open and she gasps for air even as coming panic descends upon her mind. What is she doing? What is she doing?! Someone help her WHAT IS SHE DOING?!

She wildly looks around even as she fights to breath in the thin atmosphere. The world is dizzyingly far below her. A few thin clouds float at her eye level while more gather down below her. Even farther below them she can see the city as mere smudge of muted colours upon what she knows is the green, brown, and grey landmass of her home country. The ocean a never ending blue. Except it does end, right there at the horizon which is curving. She can see the curve of the earth! She's so high up! She's so high! H-how is she ever going to survive this!

She wasn't planning on surviving this. That's right, she'd actually wanted to die. She'd intended to END her own LIFE! Not anymore. She wants to live, she wants to survive, she doesn't want to die! How had she even been okay with that a moment ago!

Something within her mind reminds her she's still rising, still going higher. It momentarily brings her out of the dangerous spiraling panic of her mind enough for her to yank her hands apart and cancel her quirk.

That was a mistake.

Suddenly she's falling and screaming, turning and twisting head over heals through the air as the wind yanks and pulls at her while gravity sucks her down. She can't hear her own scream as it gets ripped from her lips and her eyes sting as air rushes past them, slicing like knives as it goes by. Through it all her mind is screaming at her to save herself. Bring her hands together, activate her quirk, do whatever it takes to just stop falling!

She does, and then she's just hanging in the air. Relief floods into her, but the panic isn't through with her yet. She's still in mortal danger, still hanging miles, and miles, and miles above her coming doom.

It's about now that she notices the burning sensation of her arms as they hold together, keeping contact so she can continue to float. Not to mention the horrible sickness churning in her stomach and the strain of her already oxygen deprived mind to keep her quirk activated. She's dangerously close to fainting from quirk exhaustion.

She wants to panic again, she's dangerously close to giving in to the despair and utter fear tearing at her sanity. But if she does that she'll die for sure. She has a few precious moments before her quirk gives out on her and she falls.

She can work with that. She has to. Ochaco is not going to die. Not today. Not at her own hands.

Taking a deep breath, Ochaco centers herself and then reflects on her options. There's not many, just three: up, stay in place, or down.

There is nothing that can save her by going up and hovering hear until her quirk runs out is a deathwish.

So that leaves down. She could slowly lower herself with her quirk, but already she knows she won't be able to keep her quirk active long enough to reach safety. So… so… so she'll just have to let herself fall. Maybe if she can control her fall, activate her quirk in short spurts.

The last thing she wants to do is willingly release her quirk and fall. But if it's the only way to survive then- then she'll do it.

Taking a deep steadying breath, Ochaco lets go.

She doesn't scream this time, but it's a near thing. Instead she focuses on not activating her quirk despite her instincts. It burns and howls inside of her, but she can't. Not yet. Just hold out a little bit longer. Let the ground come closer. Just a little bit more.

NOW!

Ochaco brings her hands together with a clap.

Nothing happens.

She continues to fall.

A sickening feeling churns in her stomach as Ochaco tries again to activate her quirk. But nothing happens. Her quirk refuses to respond to her. It's done.

And so is she.

She's going to die.

Ochaco doesn't scream this time. She just cries.

"I c-can't save myself." She sobs even though she cannot hear her own words through the rushing wind. "I c-can't even s-s-save myself."

This was just like at the exam. She can literally cancel out an object's weight, yet she couldn't get a boulder off of her foot. And now here she is, falling to her death when falling should be the one thing she can save herself from.

The irony is killing her… or it will, in a moment.

Ochaco continues to sob her heart out as she is over come with regret. Her parents, how could she have ever thought to do this to her parents. She- she's such a despicable child.

"NO!"

Ochaco's eyes snap open and her head automatically turning toward the sound.

She sees green.

There is a boy flying toward her, hands outstretched desperately. His forest green eyes blaze with light stare at her with fear and determination.

At first she thinks she's imagining things. He doesn't seem quite real, as if he is just an apparition of her mind or trick of the light.

"Please!" The boy is so close to her now, hand reaching for her. "Take my hand! Let me save you!"

He's not real. She can actually see through his body as if he were a ghost. But… But his eyes are alive. Even if the rest of him seems to be made of mere smoke there is no doubting the spark of life in his eyes. And they're so intense. She can see his raw emotions within them.

Hope blossoms in her chest and she reaches out stretching out as far as she can. Their hands come together, hovering for a moment before they both try and grab on to the other. There is a moment she doubts, where she's sure her hand will just pass through the ghost boy and reality will come crashing back into her.

His fingers grip her wrist and her hand grips his. He's real!

He brings her descent to a stop until they are hanging in the air like stars in the sky. She's smiling and crying and she never wants to let go of this strange boy she doesn't even know the name of.

* * *

 **Yay! Uravity! You beautiful child, welcome to the story!**

 **One of the first big canon changes I considered when creating a world where Izuku is dead was what would happen to Ochaco's in the Entrance Exam. Without Izuku, Ochaco would not have gained _forty-five_ rescue points, thus leaving her with only twenty-eight.**

 **While 28 seems like a good number at first there were a _lot_ of students trying out for the hero course. Taking into account how there are only 40 spots open for the hero course, 28 points just doesn't cut it.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary:**

 **Ichijorei is faced with some problems.** **Meanwhile Izuku helps.**

 **Ichijorei does not appreciate Izuku's help.**

* * *

A few moments in and the job is already done.

…

That is nice.

The murder which the _other_ had assigned me was actually rather mundane when considering murders. Some human tried to rob some building and killed some other human to prove a point. Simple.

The now departed soul did not have any time to feel anything substantial that might cause the soul to linger (or turn into a ghost). I do not even need the boy's help as the soul comes to me the moment I call… which is good because I was not sure if I remembered the song correctly. It is so much harder working with _other's_ appointments. You do not get the beacon that calls to you and the song doesn't just come to you naturally. You have to memories the song and be told the time and place of the reaping. It gets especially muddy when there is more than one soul to be reaped at a single place.

There was this one time where I had agreed to help out an _other_ which I immediately regretted when I came upon the scene to discover myself in the middle of a battlefield. I attempted to find all the souls I could and thought I had succeeded. Apparently, though I missed one by accidentally and by the time my mistake was realised and we went back to retrieve the soul, it had already dissipated. That particular _other_ has not spoken to me since. Not that I blame the _other_. I would have been furious as well.

Messing up our own job is unacceptable. Messing up someone elses is interference of the worst degree and absolutely unforgivable.

Thankfully this job was clear cut with only one obvious dead person laying right out there on the floor.

"I see what you mean." The boy says to me after I have finished calling the soul. Heroes have already subdued the murderer so the boy is more relaxed and able to focus on his own wonderings (I think it might be a favourite past time of his) rather than the scene before us. He hates it when villains seem to be getting away with any crime.

"About what?" I ask in return.

"Well, Kowaikaorei-san gave us this job thinking it would be difficult based on the fact that it was a murder. But it wasn't at all."

While it is nice to be recognised for being right I am more focused on the fact that the boy just gave the _other_ a name. I am a little perturbed. I know that humans (or maybe it is just a habit of the boy. I am not sure yet) like naming everything, but until now I have been the only _other_ to have a name.

Now 'Kowaikaoreisan' has a name too.

Huffing (did I actually just huff?) I scoop the boy up and whisk us off to two of my own appointments. They go by fast as well (it helps when I have the boy around to soothe any distressed souls) and I am pleased to realise I will not have to rework my schedule at all. We are making incredible time.

As we drop of the souls into the Portal of Lights, however, I must admit that I am not… truly as pleased as I am trying to make myself be. The name thing is still bothering me. And it bothers me further that it is bothering me. Plus my work does not seem to be making me feel better like it usually does, so that is bothering me too.

Maybe it does not matter if any of the others get names or not because mine is special. Ichijoreisama does sound a lot nicer than Kowaikaoreisan. And mine is shorter which probably means it is better.

Or maybe shorter is worse.

And what if Ichijoreisama only sounds nice to me. What if the boy thinks Kowaikaoreisan is a nicer sounding name. Can one switch names?

"Ichijorei-sama?" The boy's voice calls my name and my attention is immediately drawn to him. That always happens when the boy uses my name. I wonder… Is the name attached to my focus and whoever wields the name has the ability to grab my attention no matter what I am doing?

It is rather scary now that I think about it.

"Yes." I answer. The boy is looking at me funny.

"Are… are you okay?"

A funny look for a funny question. "Yes. I do not think it is possible for me to not be 'okay'. Why do you ask this question?"

"Well," the boy fiddles with his hands nervously, "it's just that, you've been staring at nothing for a while now and we already dropped off the soul. Usually we're off by now to visit the next soul."

Oh… I guess I completely spaced out. That is… rather disconcerting. I have never been so distracted by my own thoughts before.

I try to focus back on the work at hand and where I need to go next, but I am still somewhat distracted. I just cannot stop thinking about names. What even are names? It seems to have some power over its holder, but how much and why? If the _others_ used my name would it hold the same power over me as it does when the boy uses it? Why do humans even feel the need to name things? And what if Kowaikaoreisan name really is more special than mine?

There is no doubt about it. I must get answers or I will not be able to do my job properly.

I look to the boy (who seems even more worried than before. Apparently I spaced out again) and ask, "Is my name better than the _other's_?"

The boy looks surprised. His eyes are wide and the green of his iris flickers. "Eh?"

"Is my name more special?" I ask.

"I… more special than what?"

"More special than Kowaikaoreisan."

The boy's eyes widen as his irises shrink down into pinpricks. His hands wildly flail about before deciding to take up guard over his face to hide it from the world. A stream of words erupt from him and completely bulldoze me over.

"I-I mean you're both r-really cool and I don't mean to be disrespectful to Kowaikaorei-san it's just my personal opinion and Kowaikaorei-san did kind of sort of have a grim angry-ish face not that that's bad or that it scared me although it kind of did but I know that your not supposed to judge others by their appearance and I'm not because Kowaikaorei-san didn't seem to like me very much not that not liking me means Kowaikaorei-san is a bad person because most people don't like me and that doesn't make them bad anyway I'm sorry about the name I know Kowaikaorei-san is probably your friend so I'll think of a different name I'm so sorry although I think I'll still use san because even though you're both um... _others_ as you call yourselves I know you better and you've really helped me and been nice and I don't know what I would have done without you so I really do admire you but if you don't feel comfortable with sama I'll call you san too! I really, really am so sorry!"

I… am more confused than ever now, "Who is Sama?"

Now the boy looks just as confused as I feel, "N-n-no one?"

I consider him (and his previous flood of words) for a moment, then come to a decision. There was something in there about me being nice and Kowaikaosei not. "So, the name you gave me is the better name?"

"Uhm… Y-yeah." The boy says with a rather sheepish smile. He still looks unsure and completely confused.

"Good." I feel infinitely better now and am actually excited for the next appointment. If I remembered Kowaikaoreisan (such a silly name) instructions then the suicide soul is next. Kowaikaoreisan (my name is definitely the better one) believed that this suicide soul will be one of those that try and take back their actions at the last moment. I understand why Kowaikaoreisan (how did I ever think Kowaikaoreisan was anything special?) would give this one to me. Normally I would want to pawn this off on some other _other_ as well. But I am confident in the boy's ability.

Truly pleased (and I am not faking it this time) I step through to the next appointment.

My pleasure dies immediately.

The boy and I are standing here in the middle of the street and there is not a soul around.

Did I get the directions wrong? Or the time. Am I too early? This is why I hate taking on _others_ ' appointments.

I am about to return to the Soul Station and search for Kowaikaoreisan (it even sounds ridiculous. Not like my nice name) to ask for the details again when the boy gasps and then wizzes right past me.

I blink, then look up to see the boy's green form flying upward like a shooting star that decided to rebel against gravity and flee from the earth rather than fall to it.

I have no idea what has gotten into the boy...Although that should not be a surprise, when have I ever understood him. I suppose I should go retrieve him so I can get to hunting down Kowaikaoreisan. I do not plan on leaving the boy behind, so that suicide soul will just have to wait a bit while I get the right coordinates.

Slipping into the In-between I immediately reappear within the physical world right above the boy, ready to snag him as he shoots past.

But then I see it. The falling human. A girl. Brown cropped hair, casual clothing, round face. Tears are being ripped away even as they appear, a sob breaks out, but is also torn away as the girl pullets down toward earth.

The boy is reaching out. His face is set in determination, his light shining like a beacon. The green of his eyes which normally appears like that of a polished emerald are now burning flames of acid.

Oh. I can feel his emotions even from up here. He wants to save this girl. Everything in him wants to keep her from death.

But he cannot. The only two souls he was ever able to touch belonged to the already half dead hero and that small Erichan child. Erichan was just a fluke and this girl is very much not half dead like the hero had been. I can feel the life screaming desperately for survival within it.

The boy is going to be so broken when he fails. And it will be my fault. I am the one who came to this appointment too early after all. If I had remembered the time right this could have been avoided. I feel bad for my boy.

Their hands are almost touching now. The boy desperately tries to grab ahold. I see the moment the two forms appear to touch. I brace myself for when the boy just passes through.

Except he does not.

The girl yelps and suddenly it is hanging in the air, the boy gripping it's wrist tightly in a promise to never let go.

I can see it now. The girl is actually looking at the boy. Not through. Not past. But right into his eyes.

It can see him.

And it is very much not dead right now.

I watch as the boy pulls the other not-dead-but-is-supposed-to-be soul toward him and the girl response by desperately hugging him. The girl is shaking and sobbing. The boy is comforting it with words that I cannot make out from up here. He begins to lower them both toward the ground.

I watch, frozen in place. That… that should not have happened. That _cannot_ happen. That soul was supposed to die today. It was supposed to be reaped. But it is alive. It is alive and breathing and still residing within a completely healthy, unharmed, and very much functional body.

The boy just interfered with life. He just stopped death. He just interfered with my job.

No one, **no one must ever be allowed to do that I MUST DESTROY-** NO! No. I-I do not have to do that. He… he did not interfere with my appointment. This soul, it was not my job. Not really. I felt no beacon. I had no claim.

I can work with this. I just have to make sure Kowaikaoreisan never finds out. I will tell the _other_ that I messed up. I got the wrong coordinates. The soul dissipated before I could retrieve it. No one will know what really happened.

I will keep my boy safe. I must.

* * *

 **Kowaikaorei (怖い顔霊)**

 **Kowai (怖い) means scary, frightening, or eerie. Kao (顔) means face. Rei (霊) means spirit. When putting the two kenji (kowai and kao) together it actually becomes a noun which means to have a grim face or an angry look.**

 **So, in a sense, Izuku is calling the other _other_ Grim-Faced/Angry-Looking Spirit.**


	16. OTHER

**Summary: When rules are broken and laws abused there is one which an _other_ may seek for help** **... and perhaps even punishment.**

* * *

The _other_ looms, resting in a space devoid of all but their own power and presents. Ancient is what this _other_ is. Eternal. Mighty. First.

 _Other_.

Larger than all yet compacted into a lithe frame, the darkness that shrouds _Other_ is that of an eternal black. _Other_ is focused and somber, nothing matters but the appointed task the _Other_ and all others were designed to accomplish. But _Other's_ power has gone far beyond the earth, the place their work began. _Other's_ purpose reaches beyond just one planet, one solar system, one galaxy, one universe. This Ancient one, this First, this _Other_ reaps not one soul species as the younger, newer _others_ must. No. This _Other_ is ordained to reap all.

And it is to this _Other_ that an _other_ of grim complection has come with a very pressing matter.

"It does not bode well that you have come to me," _Other_ speaks.

"It is happening again." The _other_ says in answer.

 _Other_ turns now their full attention upon the young and smaller, causing their form to tremble. The _other_ knows not personally the type of emotions and feelings which fill the souls of other beings.

No. This tremor comes not from fear but from the consequence of having such a being as _Other_ placing their focus upon them. It is nigh unbearable.

A sigh distills the fabric of this abyss. _Other_ turns to focus their senses to looks through the fabric of emptiness. There is a moment of consideration as _Other_ peers into the darkness unfathomable.

 _The abyss gazes back._

"Ah," _Other_ says in understanding. "I see. Seems it that the other- no, Ichijorei has found another human companion ghost and now hovers close to the brink of another failing."

"Ichi… jorei?" The small _other_ asks, testing out the unfamiliar sounds. "I have heard that before. It is what the ghost soul called other. But why do you call them it? The names humans give to us are not binding. We other have no name."

"It is true what you speak. None may bind a name to us, but for one exception. If a name is freely given and wholly accepted by they who receive it, then that name becomes binding. The name which the human ghost gifted upon its appointed other has been accepted, thus Ichijorei is their name."

"Then Ichijorei is lost." The grim faced _other_ laments.

"Think little of such thoughts," _Other_ speaks. "For though Ichijorei has drifted far they yet have not fallen nor gained back what we have carefully stole and hid."

"But the name. Is it not proof enough that it is too late?"

"No, for names are not so strongly bonded that they may not be lost and forgotten given the right influence. Tell me, of what knowledge do you have concerning the bright green soul which has become attached to Ichijorei and Ichijorei to it? I must learn all I can if need arises to step in as once I did before."

"Probably less than you," The _other_ answers. "I have met the soul only once and seen it in passing briefly. I think that you, having looked into the void, know more than me."

"You are mistaken." The _Other's_ words reprimanding but tone as apathetic as ever. "Though much I see in the darkness, there is knowledge and understanding which may only be partained through contact most direct. You have met but once. This once, however, may well be enough. Now, tell of which you have perceived of this ghost."

"At first I did not pay the soul any attention. It was ordinary like most human souls. Its inner core unremarkable when compared to other ghosts. However, the more I spent in its presence the more I could not help but to notice it. Its emotions were unbearably strong so that I felt them despite not touching. There was a light to it which I barely noticed in the beginning. But by the end it is what drew me so strongly to it….. There is something… impossible about that human soul."

 _Other_ is quiet, the darkness eating up the silence. Emptiness consumed the passage where time aut to be but had fled this void of an abyss. The younger _other_ would have fidgitted if they could. But the stillness was binding now that the _Other_ was so entranced in deep thought.

Finally, after what might have been an eternity had time still ticked within the barren confinse of this void, _Other_ breaks the silence.

"A crossroads lays in wait upon Ichijorei's path, soon to be trod. Such is its importance that the choice they make upon it will decide both them and the ghost child's fate. If the right path Ichijorei chooses then all is as it should be. If wrong…... To make such folly once is forgivable. To traver's the same path twice shows a flaw in Ichijorei's very make that cannot be fixed. Thus erasure shall be the only option."

The _other's_ grim complexion wavers at the ancient one's words. "I… I am sure Ichijorei will not fail."

The _Other_ considers the young one before them. A heaviness descends upon the abyss around them, chilling the previously climatless dark. "You are correct in your suspicion that it was not accident which caused Ichijorei to miss the assignment you had entrusted to them. The ghost interfered."

A look most dark and feeling most fowl plunges into the other, the very emptiness around them rippling with their rage only to be sucked and feasted upon by the abyss. " **DESTROY THE GHOST!** "

"Hold yourself." The _Other_ stills the enraged other with their voice. "To move upon the ghost child now would be to force fates hand. Attach the child now and Ichijorei will defend. I do not wish to lose another of us to the meddling of human souls if I may help it. Once Ichijorei has made their decision you may act."

The _other's_ trembling ceases as they calm, though the undercurrent of fury still feeds into the cavernous void. "I will wait only because it is your decree."

Other nods. Sound tears into the silence of the void as it is torn into by the long appendage of the ancient one. The _Other_ steps through the breach it had made. The abyss folds in behind the _Other_ , sewing back together without a sign of ever being cut.

The young _other_ remains a moment longer to seeth in the emptiness around them, allowing the void to drink of their anger and malintent. Then, because they had a job to do and like all others nothing was more important than that, they too rip a hole into the emptiness and disappeared from the void.

Without another soul nor spirit around to sift through and ripple the darkness of the eternal void it falls into its own still and silent chaos, consuming itself and the utter nothing that is all around.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary: Being thick skinned is a** **benefit, especially when trying to befriend the angriest guy in class.**

* * *

To tell the truth, Kirishima Eijirou had been super nervous about his first day at A.U High. Of course he was pumped that he got in and excited to meet all of his new classmates. But that doesn't mean there isn't a little bit of nervousness eating away at the pit of his stomach. After all, based on some of the really awesome and flashy quirks he saw during the exam, his new classmates are no doubt really cool and manly.

A part of Eijirou isn't sure he'll be able to measure up.

(He dyed his hair red and spiked it to try and bolster his courage by emulating his idol, Crimson Riot. Eijirou knows that on his own he's not good enough.)

Of course, Eijirou doesn't really have time to worry about that right now what with their homeroom teacher threatening to expel the student unfortunate enough to fail his tests…. Not cool man.

If there is a bright side to this, it's that Eijirou gets to see everyone using their quirk to their fullest and giving the tests their all in manly competition. And wow was Eijirou right about everyone's quirks being absolutely amazing and just perfect for the hero course!

There are a lot of great flashy quirks like Kaminari's who is a legit pikachu with his electricity quirk. A dark haired- er, feathered teen named Tokoyami actually controls this sentient shadow bird-creature that seems indestructible. A blue haired student with glasses, he heard the guy introduce himself as Iida earlier, has literal engines in his legs that make him like a real live Sonic the Hedgehog.

Oh! And there's this really beautiful girl (Kaminari keeps tripping over himself whenever he's around her) with literal vines for hair that she can control and are way stronger than they look. She got the second highest score during the grip test with those vines. The highest went to Shoji, this real manly guy with six arms that are really, really, reaaally strong.

Also, there's this guy named Aoyama who has a literal laser shooting out of his stomach. Definitely makes him eye catching (if you don't accidently blind yourself looking at his quirk that is) and perfect for the hero biz. Ashido, who he already knows from middle school, is really athletic and has an acid quirk. Even if her quirk isn't as flashy as the others, Eijirou thinks she will still do fine in the hero business what with her eye catching pink appearance and great outgoing personality. Eijirou has always known she'd make it no problem into the Hero Program at U.A.

(A part of him is still jealous at how naturally cheerful, outgoing, positive, and just all around brave she is. Mostly though, he greatly respects her manly-ness.)

Then there are the two recommendation students, Todoroki and Momo. Man they both seem so confident, mature, and... well- perfect.

Momo can create anything from her body! Anything! Well, at least that's the impression Eijirou is getting from her so far.

As for Todoroki, the way he used his ice to slide to the finish line in both 50 meter dash and endurance run was epicly cool. But even without his quirk he'd easily pass these tests just using his own strength and stamina which are already at Pro levels.

Other quirks which aren't as flashy are still pretty amazing like Sero's elbow tape or Asui's (please call her Tsuyu) frog like characteristics.

There is no doubt everyone's quirks are super manly, but what has Eijirou even more excited is just how cool his actual classmates themselves are! Everyone is just so chill and friendly. He's already made friends with two other classmates, Kaminari and Sero! Plus, Ashido declared them friends when they met up at the entrance exam so technically he's got three friends now.

There is one student, however, who as Eijirou worried. Well, three actually.

The first is this one classmate, Mineta, who just doesn't seem to respect their fellow female students at all and keeps making lewd remarks and staring inappropriately at the girls. It's super unmanly and Eijirou along with several other of his classmates have told him several times to just… just stop dude.

The other student, Umaru Doma, is just… actually, Kirishima isn't quite sure what is going on with her. She's just… why is she even here? The girl hasn't stopped loudly complaining about not being home on her internet ever since activating her quirk. I mean. She seemed pretty cool when she first got out here, one might even say she was the spitting image of a model student. But then she turned herself into a loudmouth obnoxious otaku chibi with orange bear ears and since then hasn't participated in anything that requires physical effort… which is basically the entire test so.

It's not hard to guess who's going home.

So yeah. Those two students are cause for concern. But the student who has really caught Eijirou attention and has him worried is a guy named Bakugou. He hasn't actually introduced himself… or really talked at all. In fact, Eijirou is pretty sure Bakugou-san hasn't said a single word the whole day. The only reason Eijirou knows his name is because Aizawa-sensei used it to call him up to give the first throw.

The guy is crazy strong with an amazing flashy quirk which he uses to pulverise every obstacle put in his way. The sheer force of brutality with which the guy carries himself is enough to discourage most of their classmates from even approaching Bakugou. He has this murderous death glare in his red eyes and his resting face screams "DIE!"

But that's not what is worrying Eijirou. It's the strained tension in his shoulders, as if he is carrying a great weight that is slowly dragging him down. It's the hollow almost haunted look hidden deep in his eyes and engraved in the way he moves and breaths. Overall there is this aura of suppressed emotions which Eijirou knows is not anger. His anger is free, brash, harsh, and bright. He puts it on display for the whole world to see.

But Eijirou is sure that the anger is a front. A smoke screen. It's too bright and flashy and obvious. And it disappears the moment he is done with whatever task Aizawa-sensei has given him.

He's a firework. An explosion of sound, heat, and colour that causes people to retract, look away, and cover their ears. But all too soon the firework is gone as if it were never there, replaced by an empty dark sky and deathly quiet silence.

The guy is hurting. He's hurting and plagued by something but no one seems to see it. They all comment about his anger, about his strong quirk and strong body. But no one seems to have noticed how much he is suffering.

Eijirou doesn't know what's wrong and he's… he's not sure if he can help, but he's going to try. He hasn't always been brave (honestly, he still doesn't feel brave) enough to step in and be there for others. But that's why he's here. To be a hero. To stand up and be strong. To live life without regret.

Bakugou is angry. Bakugou is full of guilt. Bakugou is in pain.

It's day one and Bakugou has already scared everyone away from him.

Eijirou steals himself, then takes a step toward the murderous looking teen. Then he takes another, then another.

The ash-blond boy notices his approach and glares at him, lip curling up into an actual snarl. Eijirou is pretty sure Bakugou is going to do his ultimate best to scare him away. It will probably take weeks of being ignored, name called, and cursed at before Bakugou realises that Eijirou isn't gonna back down.

That's okay, Eijirou has thick skin. He knows he can take it and he thinks Bakugou deserves a friend.

"Hey dude! That was a real awesome long jump! And the way you keep using your quirk to give you extra power is just so manly! What's your name?"

Red eyes bore into him, sending a shiver down Eijirou's spine. He takes a step back without realising it.

" **.** "

Eijirou takes a deep breath, then smiles even wider. "Nice to meet you Go-away. I'm called Kirishima Eijirou. Wanna be pals?"

* * *

 **So, I tallied up your guy's votes and the winner was- Ibara! Yaaaay!**

 **It was very much the majority vote which is great because I think the girls pretty 'manly' (to put it in our favourite red head's terms) as well.**

 **Also, sorry for the long wait but I do actually have a good excuse which I can sum up with one word.**

 **Wedding.**

 ***Shudder***

 **I officially hate weddings. Its not worth it guys. The stress. The money. The stress. The more stress. Just keep it simple. Or better yet- elope.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary: Ichijorei has discovered one of the downsides to befriending a human. Now would be a good time for either of them not to make anymore friends.**

* * *

"I want to go visit Eri-chan again." The boy says during a rather dull appointment. It is a typical death of a completely ordinary person. My favourite. They are so agreeable and easy to deal with.

Unlike my boy.

He has been asking this question a lot recently and it has been trying my patience. Apparently I have that- patience. Or at least I did.

It seems to be slipping away from me now, though.

I try not to answer him, but the boy's hope filled eyes are staring up at me. Demanding my notice as they emplore with me.

Try not to look at the boy either.

With another appointment done I move forward to envelope the ghost boy in a... what was that word he used? Ah- hug. I step forward to give the boy a hug in preparation of stepping into the _In-between_ , but the boy evades me.

Huh… he has never done that before.

I advance again, but the ghost boy just steps backward and out of reach. He looks up at me with a challenging expression on his face. His eyes have hardened like jade, shining bright but firm as stone. I have learned this emotion is called determination. I do not think I like this emotion much.

"No." He shakes his head, "I'm not going anywhere until you answer me."

I could take the ghost boy by force if necessary, but I have a feeling that would greatly upset him.

I sigh, "Then I shall answer. No. You cannot go to Erichan."

And there it is, the reason I did not want to answer him in the first place-

The boy's shoulder and back slump forward, his face falls and there is such disappointment in those big green eyes which threaten to spill over as they become glossy and the colour wobbly that I fear something in me might break.

"But- but why?" There is something about the way the ghost boy says those words. His voice takes on a higher pitched trill and I think he must be using magic or a quirk on me because I almost give in right there and whisk him off to the little pale girl.

But no. I cannot do that because the pale girl is alive. It is alive and the ghost boy can touch the pale child. He can touch and interact with it and that should not be possible, just like it was not possible for the boy to interfere with the heavy hand of life and halt the coming of death.

Eri-chan is a reminder of how horribly impossible my boy is… and I do not want to remind him of that. I do not want to encourage that. I do not want the boy interfering with another job again.

Because next time it may be my job he interferes with and… I am not sure how I will react. I am afraid.

But I do not tell the boy this. I have not even told him what he did was unacceptable and that he must never do it again. I have not warned him that if he were to save another soul destined for death, he would have cause to greatly fear me.

I cannot tell him these things, because after saving that falling girl he had been so _happy_.

The ghost boy had been elated. His whole being had glowed brighter than I had ever seen him glow before. His smile was a different kind of bright which lit up something inside of me. Greatest were his eyes that shone like supernovas. The green irises danced, flared, sparkled, and flowed with a beautiful shining light.

I have never witnessed joy so bright or hope so encompassing. I would do almost anything to get my boy to feel that intensity of happiness again.

 _Almost_ anything.

My job is more important than him though. It must be. That is what I am, what my purpose and existence is. Everything I am is for my job.

I cannot let anyone interfere… even the boy.

"Because we do not have time." I lie to the boy. His face falls, but I see the way the color of his irise flicks and snaps minutely. He does not believe me.  
"Then… then I'll go visit her while you do your work. Y-you know where I'll be so you can pick me up when you have time." His voice is faltering, shaking a bit. His eyes hold a little fear. But they are still determined. He will do it. He will follow through with this plan. I know he will actually leave and do this even if there is doubt in him.

I am not sure what he is doubting. Does he not think I will come back for him?

… If he leaves… will I come back for him?

I… I think so.

No. I will. I am sure of it.

I look at the boy. He looks up at me, waiting to see how I will react.

I am not going to win this one, am I?

"Ichijorei-sama?"

Nope. Not winning. That boys hold over me is too strong, which is insane because he is just a human. On top of that he is apparently a _quirkless_ human _child_ which is the most powerless combination one could have in this existence.

That whole quirk conversation had been confusing on so many levels.

First off, he had sounded so ashamed when telling me his condition- as if having an annoying troublesome quirk was something to be proud of. Quirks are the only things which can even get in the way of our work. Their constantly causing trouble and always accomplishing the impossible- wait…. Oh…. I have just come to a realisation.

The boy does not have a quirk, he _is_ a quirk.

Is it possible to be a quirk? Admittedly I am not as knowledgeable as I used to believe. There are so many missing gaps in my mind. Things I never questioned, things I deleted, things that are just… missing. I sometimes feel that either I must be the most clueless _other_ out there or that we _other_ as a group are just an ignorant bunch.

The boy is still looking at me expectantly, his fingers are twitching as he worries at his bottom lip.

I am doomed.

"Fine." I tell the boy. "But I will take you there."

The ghost boy's face lights up which almost makes it worth it. But I am determined to remain upset about this whole debacle no matter how many of his bright smiles he uses on me.

A quick step in and out of the _In-between_ and we have teleported to the girl's bedroom. The pale girl is sitting on its bed as usual; body still, breath shallow, heart rate slow, ruby eyes glazed over. If I did not see the girls little soul glowing within her physical frame I would think her dead at first glance. There is nearly no life in its body.

The moment I sift off of the ghost boy the pale child's eyes catch on him and suddenly it looks alive. The girl does not smile, but its eyes dance and sparkle. It is happy.

"Eri-chan!" The boy greets, kneeling close to the ground and opening his arms out in invitation. "I'm ba- oof!"

The girl barrels into him, burying its face into his shoulder. The pale girl's little arms reach around and hug him as tightly as it can. The ghost boy encircles the small girl with his own embrace, gently cradling it as he laughs.

Their souls are shining as they begin chatting and I hesitate a moment to watch them further. I have witnessed their interactions several times since that first discovery. The way they are together, how their souls brighten and respond to one another… it is heartwarming.

I find myself liking the girl and the soft protective side it- _she_ brings out in the ghost boy. Not to mention the way in which the boy has slowly been healing her soul with every visit. I marvel at the improvement.

The crack in her soul that is so grievous has faded ever so slightly. The once dull grey has slowly turned to a light, tentative gold. The quick fluttering of her soul always changes to a swirling motion when the boy is around. It is still unsteady and hesitant, but stirs nevertheless.

If compared to other souls her's is still dull and woefully damaged. But I know it is better. It is… she is healing. I see it especially whenever the ghost boy laughs or holds her and that little soul shines just a bit more brightly.

I also see how interacting with the white haired girl seems to help the boy. His soul is always that much more radiant after his visits with her.

I have to go. I have tarried too long. But I do feel better. Better than I have ever since the **_incident_**. It really was silly of me to keep the boy from the pale girl. There is no real harm in them interacting. How can there be when it always does them both such good.

The real issue is making sure the ghost boy does not get in the way of another death again. I can easily accomplish that by making sure to never arrive at an appointment too early. That had been my mistake with that falling girl. I will just make sure it does not happen again.

I smile to myself as I complete one job, than another. I do feel bad for keeping the boy from the little child for so long. Perhaps I will let them hang out a little longer.

…. No. I better go back. I did, after all, just leave the ghost boy in the center of a villain lair full of unknown but probably very bothersome quirks. After all, if the little girl, who is completely not-dead, can see my boy then what is stopping any of the villains?

I have no clue, that is the answer. I do not understand anything about anything that has to do with my boy. He definitely must be a quirk. Or at least have a quirk. A very powerful and annoying one at that. There is no way the boy is not touched by quirk with how impossible he is.

I step back into the sterile, white, and barren room which houses the body of the little pale girl. The ghost boy is sitting on her bed, holding the small child as he rocks her back and forth. Her eyes are closed and her soul has quieted so she must be in stasis… er- sleep. The boy says that when humans are like this they are sleep. I honestly learn something new everyday.

The boy has not noticed me yet. I think of letting him continue for a few more moments and just watch. Seeing those two human souls (I think they may be my favourite humans in the whole world) so at peace is really nice. Plus the noise the boy is making is calming and… and familiar… wait… No, it can't be!

"What is that?" I demand of the boy.

The boy starts in surprise, eyes wide and a flicker of fear sparking in those green irises. But then his eyes catch my presence and he smiles, "Hi Ichijorei-sama. Its… well, I'm humming for Eri-chan. She was tired and I thought it would be nice if I just sang her to sleep-"

"No." I interrupt him before he can divulge into one of his murmuring tangents. "What is that song. What is it and where did you hear of it?"

The boy seems put off by my demands. I think he must sense my unease. "I-I don't actually kn-now the name, b-b-but I heard it from you. You used to sing it a lot. Y-you don't anymore and I've actually been curious to know why because I found it very comforting and nice. It just… always felt so right."

From me… of course he heard it from me. I remember how I used to constantly try to call to his soul in an attempt to bring him to rest. I am not sure when I stopped. In all honesty I had forgotten about it. I forgot that this boy had once been an appointment of mine. That he cannot stay with me forever.

...Unless he stays a ghost forever. Unless I never call his soul. Unless I make sure that desire, that wish he made which turned him into a ghost is never fulfilled.

"Do not sing that song again." I say.

The boy's brow krinkles. "Why? I-is there something wrong with it?"

I nod. "It is your reaping song."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary: A man seeks to dissect the problem. A child cries.**

* * *

Chisaki is deeply confused.

Outwardly he is as still and quiet and deadly as always.

The tips of his fingers, encased in thin plastic, rest against each other as he steeples them together. His thin frame leans forward minutely, cold yellow eyes staring ahead on a blank face. The glow of monitor screens reflect in his piercing irises and illuminate his pale in an ethereal light so that he appeared more like a vengeful ghost then a living human.

To most Chisaki looks as he always does, slightly peeved at the world.

To those who really know him they can see the small tick of his brow, the glint in his eyes, and the slight way his fingers press together more firmly than usual.

He is confused and he does not like that.

"Play it again." He says, voice as emotionless and cold, but there is a tightness to it which is not usually there.

The security guard nods immediately and quickly rewinds the footage on the screen. There are four images on display, each feeds from cameras set up at each four corners of one single room. Chisaki leans forward a little more as the security footage rewinds, eyes flicking over the screen to pick up any hidden detail he might have missed before.

The one room with four security cameras is empty, barren, and sterile (as is every room in this place). The only furniture is a bin of toys and a bed. A single light in the center cuts away at any deep shadow which might have darkened the corners of the room. There is one door in the room, but it lacks a knob to turn.

No shadows to hide within, no other furniture to use as cover.

On a different screen the hallway which this door leads to is also under heavy surveillance. Two guards, an electrical security lock unlocked by a code only he, Mimic, and Chronostasis know.

The footage begins to play and Chisaki's fingers twitch as he focuses in on the four different security camera angles on the screen. Everything plays out normally at first with the little girl huddled into herself on top of her bed as she does every day. The only movement in the room is a slight fidget of the girl every now and again.

"Stop." Chisaki says, his subordinate freezing the frames right as the little girl, who almost never moves, suddenly snaps her head up as if something had just caught her attention. The room is blank. There is nothing. Apparently, whatever has caught her attention is not visible.

"Back a bit." He orders.

The footage ticks backward a few frames at a time until right at the moment she had first startled. "Stop." He orders again.

There, her shoulder. A slight twitch. It is the first point in her body to react.

Something touched her.

"Play." He orders and watches as the girl looks around the room. Just like how he cannot see anything in the room so apparently can she. Her eyes continue to rove, but her head has stopped swiveling.

"Stop." Chisaki orders. The frames freeze. Her eyes have anchored onto something, staring intently at what to them seems to be empty air. But that is not what has caught his attention. It is her head, the way she tilts it to the side ever so slightly.

She's listening to something.

Chisaki curses himself mentally. It was short sighted of him to not set up audio in the room.

Ordering the security guard to play the footage again, Chisaki watches carefully. The girls face goes from confusion to panic, her hand reaching out but unsure where to reach out to. A word passes her lips.

"Chronostasis, what did she say?"

His faithful precinct who is watching the footage with him takes a half a step forward and says, "' _Wait'_ _._.. She- she seems to be calling out to someone. Perhaps they were leaving."

As he thought. Whatever has caught her attention is something alive, something that can listen and speak.

It is after her words that things go very, very strange.

At first, it looks as if Eri is the one doing all of it, floating off of her bed ever so slightly, gripping onto thin air as if it had a solid form to hold. Chisaki absently notes that her eyes seem to have anchored onto something still hidden to his eyes. Then she takes off her socks and hands it to the air where her eyes are still locked. The empty space takes it, tucks one sock over her hand while the other… The other is pulled onto something solid, something invisible.

Chisaki has the video paused again and all in the room lean forward to truly scrutinise the security footage.

They have frozen the scene right as the sock is being pulled over the something. The something is splayed out, thin fabric of the sock stretched at five points. Fingers. It is a human hand.

Looking at Eri again, hovering slightly over her bed, it becomes obvious she is not the one who suddenly learned to fly. No, the way her head leans against nothing. The way her back and shoulders are relaxed despite being in an upright sitting position. How her legs are tucked up funnily but are just as loose and relaxed as her back. It all points to only on conclusion.

She is being held by someone.

There is an audible intake of air from nearly everyone in the room. Ah, so they have come to the same realisation.

"Its an invisible person!" the doll of black fabric and leather beak mask, Mimic, screeches in outrage. "A person with an invisibility quirk somehow snuck into the center of our base. How did we miss that?! How?!"

"It's not just this footage." Chronostasis says. His voice is much calmer, but Chisaki can hear the icy rage edging into his tone. "There are other instances like this scattered throughout Eri's security feed. As far as we know this is just the first time the anomaly appeared. To now know that it is a… person, is troubling."

Indeed it is. Very troubling.

"What?!" Mimic, now even angrier than before, hollors. "You mean this has been goin' on fer months and we've only caught it now? Who in security will I need to skin alive?!"

"Calm yourself Mimic." Chisaki says as he stands up from his seat and smooths the wrinkles from his shirt. "Those responsible for the security of the girls room have already been punished. Chronostasis. Stay here and continue watching the feed of the anomaly. Inform me of anything you manage to glean from the security footage. Mimic, inform Nemoto to meet me in front of Eri's room."

Chisaki does not need to look back to know that both have turned to do his bidding immediately without question.

As Chisaki stalks silently through his halls he thinks back to the footage he had just watched, or more accurately the date the scene had been taped.

The date had immediately stuck in his mind and now that Chisaki has had a moment to think he remembers why it was so familiar. Something else strange had happened that day. A torturing session had been cut short rather unexpectedly and with no explanation. Chisaki knows very intimately the boundaries of his quirk, so when it failed him unexpectedly of course Chisaki would remember. It wasn't even that his quirk stopped working, but rather it did not work as it should have. Never before has his quirk failed to reassemble someone completely. Yet, when he reassembled his torture subject, he messed something up because the spark of life was gone.

Never before had anyone who fell under his quirk truly died without his say so. He knows his limits. He knows how long he can wait to reassemble his victims before it is too late to revive them.

His victim should not have died when they did.

Knowing now what he does about the presence of this intruder upon the same day, Chisaki wonders if perhaps the two instances are connected.

Chisaki turns a corner to see that Nemoto is already waiting for him in front of Eri's door. The mans black bird like mask (one of a much more clean minimalist design) turns in his direction when he draws close and the man nods.

"Overhaul," he says before stepping aside to let Chisaki near the door.

Chisaki quickly debriefs his subordinante on what questions he wants Nemoto to ask Eri. Nemoto seems surprised to hear about the invisible person. All who knew of the anomaly on Eri's security footage had thus far assumed it was Eri's doing, just as Chisaki had first thought.

But now Chisaki knows the truth. Shortly he will understand better just what he is now dealing with.

Chisaki opens the door and enters the empty room. Eri's attention is immediately on him and he is greeted by familiar fearful red orbs. Something snaps inside of him, remembering the look he saw through the footage the girl always got when the anomaly, when her invisible person visited her. It is a look he had never seen on her before. A look he knows she will never give to him.

A look he hates.

Chisaki does not bother to erase the scowl wrinkling his brow as he gives Eri a cold glance. Her eyes shift away from him when Nemoto enters behind him. The girls tense body immediately begins trembling the moment she sees the man.

Tears are in her eyes, threatening to spill over. He sees the understanding in her eyes. She knows what is about to happen and that there is nothing she can do against it.

"You have been a bad girl Eri." Chisaki addresses the girl, noting the shiver that crawls down her spine when he speaks. "Playing with your invisible friend without telling me."

The girl is shaking harder now, eyes shut tightly, teeth biting into her bottom lip, head shaking back and forth. With a signal from Chisaki, Nemoto steps forward, his dark from looming over the pale, teeny girl.

"Tell us who this person is that has been visiting you?"

Chisaki has not heard Eri cry in a long time.

Now, she weeps loudly as words spill unbidden from her mouth.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary: Ooh boy**

* * *

Sometimes I get appointments that are in strange places. One time I remember a job where my client had been thrown into an active volcano by its own kind who were all dancing around and chanting like chickens with their heads cut off. Stepping out from the void of the In-between into a burning lake of lava was certainly an interesting experience.

Much more common, but certainly just as startling to the senses, are those appointments which are deep in the water. Everything looks so different under water, more warped and flued. Colours and sound all seem to be just a tad off as shadow and light dance around you. The souls, however, are not affected by the water. They always looks just the same as they would whether in water, lava, or air.

This one is no different.

The soul which I am to reap is a perfectly smooth cylinder on the outside. The colouring is a rather dull purple to make me think that nearly all of its hue has been sucked from it. The inside is another matter, however. A creeping dankness that affronts my sight in an offending way. There are jagged spikes cutting into its hollow core as if it were committing self sabotage from within.

It is not a villainous soul. But it is not entirely a pleasant one either. It is, however, young.

The soul hangs unaffected by the churning of the water around it. Red spills and spreads yet the ruddy red cannot stain the purple of soul as it does the water. Still attached to the soul through a white thread is a nearly severed body of a diminutive child in what appears to be a purple hero costume. It hangs captive within the jaws of a human that has what I assume must be a shark quirk.

I scowl. I am really starting to dislike villains. They always make such messy gruesome appointments that never fail to upset my boy terribly. Like now. I do not even have to look to know intimately that he is very much distressed. I feel his emotions roiling and churning within him in a sickening mix of grief, shock, horror, furry, despair, and -most strange of all- guilt.

To what he feels the need to be guilty about I am not sure.

The purple soul which had been floating so calmly before stutters once before collapsing from within, its response to suddenly finding its life at an end. It begins to boil and quakes violently in panicked histarics as realisation of what just happened to it dawns. It did not have a tranquil end.

I rush forward, intent on finishing this appointment as soon as possible for the sake of my boy. The moment I touch it, sheer terror driven histaria crashes through me in revolting waves that make me sick to my core. But I bare the pain of this soul's feeling and drain away its last emotion. My boy does not need to suffer through contact with this soul. He is already so distressed. Even at the peak of this souls emotional wave I can still feel my boy's churning emotions behind me.

Either that is how strongly the boy feels, or I have just become that intune with his emotions. I think it may be both.

The soul, which is actually rather pathetically small now that I think about it, easily comes to my call once its emotion has been dried out. It cannot come fast enough, however as I am eager to leave this appointment and move on. The next one is actually rather close to where we are now if I remember correctly.

…

Wait...

Oh no.

It is not just close. It is right here and about to take place at any moment.

Where is my boy?

I turn around but already I know I am too late. The boy is behind me, his emotions are still churning. But he is not looking at the body which once belonged to a purple soul. His panic stricken gaze is instead fixed upon the subject of my next appointment.

A girl with long dark green hair hangs listlessly in the water, staring with large unblinking eyes at the body of the now departed purple soul. It's dark irises have constricted into tiny pinpricks in shock and horror at the scene it has witnessed.

Her death comes in the form of another quirked villain rushing behind the girl. The girl does not even notice its coming doom.

"Behind you!" The boy cries, shooting forward with hands reaching out to save the girl.

It is happening again. It cannot happen again. I have to stop him. ' T ! !

His hand passes right through the girl. I sigh in relief at the same moment a choking gasp, drowning in horror and despair, escapes the boy's throat as the girl is pierced.

I feel a little guilty, but this is for the best.

The girls mouth opens, a gurgling sound spilling out into the water around us. Bubbles escape its mouth as its body convulses in pain and shock. Tips of the trident's points protrude out of her waist, shredding through muscle, skin, and material before halting their assent. Scarlet tendrils ink the world around us.

My boy screams.

If only he had made a different wish (I should have seen from the beginning. His driven desires go much further than just helping people… he wants to save) when he died. Then he would not be in so much pain right now. But there is nothing that can be done. The green girl's soul flickers into appearance, white strings drifting away one by one from the smooth tranquel surface of the girls naturally calm soul. Within a moment only one string shall remain, then it will be ready to reap.

The girls body drifts. Her eyes cloud over and the light in them flickers feebly.

The boy sobs, fingers digging into his scalp as he stutters out broken words of apology. Tears spill from his eyes, catching on the dark fringe of his lashes or falling down his cheek but refusing to mix with the water around us.

I move forward to comfort my boy.

The girls eyes catch my movement. It look right at me. I freeze, dread filling me. She is in that strange between now; balanced upon the brink of death, ready to fall from life. She can see us (t _he boy_ ) now.

I have a bad feeling about this.

The boy's crying draws the nearly dead girl's attention. It tilts its head toward him, eyes resting upon the boys gentle green glow. Its hand reaches out weakly toward my boy and… brushes away the tears streaming down his cheeks.

No. Not again. It cannot happen again. It cannot it cannot itcannotitcannotitcannotitcannotitcannot-

The boy looks up. Their eyes meet. Hope. I see it in his eyes now. A small spark of hope alighting within those emerald depths.

He reaches up hesitantly. His hand presses against the girls, trapping the girls hand between his cheek and his palm. They do not phase through each other.

The boy wastes only a moment before suddenly the girl is gathered in his arms. He hugs it close to his chest, it's soul cradled protectively between them. His eyes flick upward toward the light filtering through from the surface.

He is going to save her.

"No!" I call out. "Izuku!"

My voice catches the boy's attention and he whirls around to look at me. His eyes. They are blazing white. Glowing, shining. They burn, burn, burn bright. I am struck still. My form unable to move toward him.

"You cannot save this soul, Izuku" I say. There is fury, so much fury fighting within me. If I am not careful it will consume me and my boy… I am not sure what I would do to my boy. But I am fighting my fury, I am keeping it at bay. I probably could not if there was not another emotion warring inside of me; desperation. You can hear it in my voice. So much desperation. More than there ever has been. It scratches and hurts.

"It is meant to die," I say. "You must not interfere. You cannot interfere. Let the soul die. Let me reap it. Let it find peace, Izuku. Let it be."

My boy hesitates. The pure light of his eyes flickers back to normal as he looks down at the girl in his arms. It is still dying, but there is more life in those dark solemn eyes than there was before. It cannot speak. Not with the water swirling around all of us. But it does not need to because the intent from its soul is loud enough.

 _i do not want to die_

The boy's eyes flash back to white and a wave of power and green light spreads out from him. Water abandons its natural flow and surges upward. A static noise rises in pitch until all other sound is lost to its screeching roar.

Then my boy and his stolen soul are gone, leaving behind only a booming shockwave and the ugly sound of metal being shredded and glass shattering. Light spills out from a newly made hole in a dome ceiling as glass rains down, mixing with the water of an entire lake that a moment ago had been ever rising toward the sky. Now it comes crashing down into its previous resting place with all the force and power of a tsunami.

I stare up at the now visible blue sky. It appears near identical to the bright sky which mocked me that first time the boy interfered with death to save a suicide soul.

What was it that Kowaikaoreisan had said about some ghosts having influence over inanimate objects? Did the _other_ not also say control over the elements being even more rare?

…

This is not fair. This is nothing like what Kowaikaoreisan hinted at. This is not fair!

A moment later the beacon which had activated the moment the green girl had been stabbed goes out and I know that my boy succeeded in saving the soul.

He succeeded in interfering with **MY JOB**!

The fury which I had been keeping at bay breaks loose. Briefly I am aware of the way all the souls within 100 meters of me quiver, shake, recoil, and freeze because of my outburst, my power. I revel in the fact.

It is not fair. It is not fair it is not fair not fair not fair **not fair NOT FAIR** **!**

 **DESTROY HIM BRING HIM PUNISHMENT BRING HIM PAIN EVERLASTING PAIN HE MUST PAY HE MUST SUFFER END HIM END HIM _END HIM_! ! ! **

**N O !**  
…

No. No. I cannot. I must not. Please. Please no.

But I will. The moment I am near him, near my boy I will hurt him. I will end him. I know it. I know myself. I know what I am. I know what I will do.

I do not want this. I do not want to hurt him. Please. Please no. Please please no I cannot please I do not want to hurt him please he is my boy I do not want to end him.

Then do not.

But I will. I may not want to but when I see him I know I will lose myself to this fury this anger this instinctive drive and end him so that nothing will remain, not even his memory.

Then… do not see him. Do not go near him. Leave.

It is the only way. This is the only way to protect my boy.

I step away into the _In-between_ leaving my bo-… Izuku behind.

* * *

 **…**

 **So…. yeah.**

 **Enjoy your long weekend.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary: For Tsuyu, leaps of faith are a simple.**

* * *

 _ **The air is red. Its thick with soaking red. She cannot breathe in without choking.**_

 _ **She remembers holding her breath.**_

 _ **The red is Mineta, caught in the jaws of death.**_

 _ **The red is her, held in death's embrace.**_

 _ **But she's not really being held. Not yet. Death looms over her shoulder. Far too close. Death waits for her, tall and shrouded in shadows.**_

 _ **She floats in red.**_

 _ **Before her, near her, close to her there is green. Glowing, soothing green. Green cries and cries, thinking it is his fault.**_

 _ **It's not his fault.**_

 _ **She reaches out to wipe away those tears. They are not red. They do not cloud around her like this billowing curtain of suffocating scarlet. They are a beautiful green, shining bright.**_

 _ **His hand rests over hers. She finds herself looking into eyes of emerald green.**_

 _ **She sees it in those eyes. Feels it stirring her fading spirit.**_

 _ **Hope.**_

 _ **Green envelopes her, replacing the horrible, horrible red. She is protected.**_

 _ **But death is calling for her. It wants her. It says it is her time.**_

 _ **Green hesitates, looking to death then back at her. His face is an open invitations to his heart. His soul dancing in his eyes.**_

 _ **Destiny holds no sway over him. In his arms she too is free from fate. He gives her a choice. To die as death decrease… or live.**_

"I don't want to die."

Tsuyu opens her eyes. The words echo in the dark of her room, the world a still quiet of the early morning hours. The barest of light touches the sky from outside, barely visible through the thin slits of her window shades.

The frog girl shifts in her bed, her bandages scratching irritably at the scared markings at her back and stomach. She feels the medicine the doctors had proscribed her wearing off, the stiff ache of her wounded torso turning into a dull throbbing. Though the pain has become more noticeable, it was not what had awoke her.

A quiet keening noise drifts across from the other side of the room, drawing Tsuyu's attention immediately. Looking over, Tsuyu can just make out the huddled form of her little sister fidgeting restlessly in her bed. The little girl tosses and turns, a distressed expression maring her sleeping face as little whimpers break from the tight press of her lips.

The small child, Satsuki, is trapped within her own nightmare. Tsuyu is a loving older sister, and loving older sisters are always going to be there for their younger siblings.

Though it hurts to do so, Tsuyu pulls herself out of bed and makes her way over to her younger sibling. The older sister leans over and gently shakes her siblings shoulder in an attempt to free her from the dredges of a nightmare.

"Suki. Suki wake up."

The small elementary student gives one last whimper before hazy eyes open and look up into Tsuyu's blank expression. Immediately tears spring to the little child's eyes and she throws her hands out desperately toward her older sister.

"Nē-chan!" The little girl cries out desperately, throwing her hands out toward her sister as tears spring into her eyes.

"Shh, shh." Tsuyu tries to comfort her little sister. She climbs into her sisters bed and snuggles close to her. "Its okay my little tadpole. It was just a nightmare."

"B-but y-you were gone and I w-was alone." Tsuyu's sister cries as she buries her head into her older sister's shoulder. "And you weren't ever coming back even though I waited a-and wai-aited. You d-didn't come h-home."

Tsuyu hugs her little sister tighter, ignoring the twinge of pain it causes her. "But I'm here now. See? I did come home and you're not alone. I'm here. Everything is alright now."

Satsuki sniffles and chokes on her tears, struggling to get her sobbing under control. Tsuyu runs her hand through her sisters silky hair and continues to whisper words of comfort to her. Eventually Satsuki's cries turn into quiet whimpers and then little hiccups as the terror of her nightmare loses its power over her because of the physical contact and soothing warmth she feels from her older sister.

"Nē-chan?" The little girl whispers between hiccups, nuzzling her head closer to her sister.

"Yes Suki-chan?" Tsuyu replies.

"Can… can you tell me the story about Froppy and Midori Yurei again?"

"The Midori Yurei, kero?" Tsuyu tilts her head and blinks at her sister. "Did you come up with that name?"

The little girl nods her head. "Is… is it good? You never told me his name."

Tsuyu simply smiled and ruffled her sisters hair. "I think that it is a good name, Suki-chan. It fits him very well."

That seems to draw a little smile onto Satsuki face. "Will you tell the story?"

"No. You just woke up from a nightmare and that story is scary."

"Please! Pretty please with a cherry on top!" Satsuki begs. "I promise not to get scared. Pleeeeeeaaaaaase!"

"Alright." A warm smile graces Tsuyu's face. She cannot say no to her little sister. There are few who can with her large unblinking eyes and porcelain doll face which their family's frog quirk had bestowed upon her.

"Once upon a time," the older sister begins, "There was a frog named Froppy who wanted to be a hero, and so went to a school that trained all the other children who lived in the forest to be heroes too. It was a good school and Froppy was very happy and learned a lot. But one day the mean animals of the woods ambushed Froppy and her friends."

"The mean animals were villains, right?" Satsuki asks.

Tsuyu nods. "Yes. They were villain animals and they wanted to hurt all the smaller animals who were training to be heroes."

"I don't like them."

"Kero," Tsuyu croaks in agreement, images flicker in her mind of the different villains she had seen that day. "One of the villainous animal who was a bird swooped down and grabbed all of the little animals and dropped them in different places, separating them all from each other. Froppy got dropped into a pond along with a small purple vole named Min.

"When the two students hit the water they were immediately surrounded by villains who wanted to gobble them up. Froppy could swim well in the water, but Min could not. So Froppy grabbed a hold of the purple vole and tried to flee with him to a log which floated close by. Froppy was sure that out of the water the two would be safe."

"But she's a frog isn't she?" Tsuyu's little sister interrupts. "Wouldn't she be stronger in the water?"

"Yes, Suki-chan. But remember there were lots of villains in the water waiting to catch her and the vole. All of these villains were very good swimmers too, even better than her since she was only a little frog who had just gained her legs. There was also Min to think of who could barely swim at all. So while being in the water usually would give Froppy more advantage than being on land, the logical decision was to leave the water as soon as possible where the evil water creatures could not reach her or Min."

"I'm glad Froppy is so smart." Satsuki smiles as she nuzzled up closer to her big sister. Tsuyu says nothing, her face empty of emotions, though the dark of the room serves well to hide the shadow which had settled in the core of her gaze.

"Froppy and Min made it to the log safely. But the mean creatures didn't give up and a snapping turtle bite into the log and broke it in two so that it began to sink."

"What did Froppy do?" The smaller child asks.

"She jumped toward the shore with Min, leaping as far as she could. But she did not make it. As they fell back toward the water Froppy threw Min closer toward the shore with her tongue hoping it would be enough for the vole to swim to safety. That turned out to be a mistake."

"But… but why?"

 **Red**.

"Because Min was a vole. He could not defend himself in the water like Froppy could. So when a goblin shark chased after Min, he got caught and Froppy was too far away to save him."

Satsuki buries her head into her sisters shoulder, shaking her head wildly. "No, no, no. I don't like this part. Change it. Say Froppy saves him."

 **Red. Spilling out and filling her vision. She's too late.**

Tsuyu was silent for a moment, then whispers. "I can't."

Satsuki looks up into her older sisters, little hands fisting her shirt as she frowned fiercely. "No! You can. Just say that Froppy beat the mean shark up. Last time you told the story Min died. Can't you change it this time? Please! Pretty please! I want Froppy to save the vole!"

 **Red everywhere. Red thickens the water. She cannot breath.**

Tsuyu bites her lip, trying to hold in the tremors in her lungs that threaten to turn into sobs. "No. No I can't change it. I wish I could but I can't. Min is dead. I… Froppy failed to reach him in time. She was too small and slow and weak. She wasn't a hero after all. Just a little frog who wished to be strong."

"But she wants to be a hero, right?" The small child asks, large glistening eyes stare hopefully up at her sister.

Tsuyu only manages to croak lightly in response and nod her head. Yes she does, she wants it. To be a hero despite the **red** which even now settles upon her like a shroud, staining her conscious with guilt. Its stifling, its drowning her. **The red is killing her.**

"Nē-chan?" The little girl tugs at her sister when the silence had gone on too long for her. "Don't stop. Tell the rest of the story. Tell what happened next?"

"Fro-" Tsuyu chokes out, fighting to keep herself from falling into the **red** creeping at the back of her mind. "Froppy froze up in horror and shock wh-when she saw her classmate… die. So horrible- it was so horrible. Froppy could look at nothing else and failed to see a spider crab attacking her from behind. He stabbed her with his pincher, hurting her very deeply."

 **Red. The red ripping into her, blinding her with pain. Harsh iron bites and tears. Murky red thickens. It floats. It soaks into her clothes. Washes over her skin. Fills her nostrils. Invades her mouth. Touches upon her tongue. Floods into her lungs.**

Tsuyu shudders, struggles to force herself to keep breathing. In and out. Deep and calming. In and out. In and out.

It's not helping. The **red** is still there. It's all she can feel, all she can smell, all she can see. **Red, red, red, red**. Nothing but **red**.

Then there is _green_.

Tsuyu takes a shuddering breath, filling her lungs with clean air. Not liquid. Not that horrible iron tang. Just fresh, night air. She can breath again.

Opening her eyes Tsuyu looks down at her sister. Black eyes and green hair. Tsuyu's hand travels down her sisters smooth locks, fingers feeling the different strands and memorising the texture. Not water. Not wet. Not **red**.

It's a darker green, especially within this darkness of night. But it's still _green_. Tsuyu has always loved the colour green. Her whole family is marked by that colour.

Now though it means so much more to her. _Green_ is the colour that saved her. _Green_ took her away from the **red**. _Green_ kept her soul from slipping into deaths reach. _Green_ is the colour of a hero.

She wants to be a hero.

Taking another steadying breath, Tsuyu makes sure she is calm and relaxed before daring to continue. Her sister has been watching her the whole time, unaware of the inner battle Tsuyu has been struggling with. But she knows her youngest sibling is smart. The little girl might not know all that is going on, but Suki knows her sister is hurt. It is why little arms encircle her, gripping tightly. Big eyes look up at her, full of concern and confusion. But the gaze is patient, letting her big sister gather herself instead of bombarding her with questions and words.

Tsuyu is thankful for that.

"Green." Tsuyu finally speaks once she feels ready. "He- he was green, the boy that saved Froppy."

"Midori Yurei!" Satsuki cries out in joy, a bright smile lighting up her face and she wiggles in the bed in excitement. There is no doubt that this is her little sister's favourite part of the story. Its Tsuyu's too. It makes telling the other parts of the story bearable.

"Kero," Tsuyu nods. "Froppy didn't know where he came from, but right in her greatest hour of need when she was sure she was dying Midori Yurei appeared, glowing brightly. It was a pretty _green_ \- his glow. It was comforting and warm. Not like the cold dark water around her."

Her _green_ is the dark of a tranquil pond shrouded in dusk. His is the bright of a spring forest bathed morning light.

"Midori Yurei took her up in his arms and immediately Froppy knew she was safe just by him being there. He would save her. She believed it. She shouldn't have. It was illogical and impossible at that point. Death was there after all, waiting to take her. But in his arms she believed she could escape death. She felt… she felt hope."

Tsuyu pauses, looking down to her sister whose eyes were beginning to droop. "Midori Yurei carried her away from all of the villains and out of death's reach. Faster than she could imagine he flew her away from the pond and to a hospital where doctors and nurses worked to heal her and save her life. When Froppy was healed from her injuries she asked the doctors and nurses where Midori Yurei was, but no one knew who she was talking about. See, Midori Yurei had been invisible to everyone but her.

"Though Froppy did not see Midori Yurei again, she was sure that when she was in grave danger he would appear and save her. Because he was more than a hero. He was a guardian spirit."

Tsuyu waited a moment in silence after ending her story, but all she heard in the dark night was the slow breathing of her little sister now slumbering peacefully. Smiling, Tsuyu kissed Satsuki on the forehead and closed her eyes to fall asleep.

Rest came easier for her. To Satsuki, Midori Yurei was just part of a story she liked. But to Tsuyu, Midori Yurei was not fiction. His _light_ , his _green_ , his _hope_.

She believed in Midori.

* * *

 **Midori Yurei**

 **Midori (緑) means green while yurei (幽霊) directly translates to dim spirit. Now don't misunderstand, this 'dim' does not mean 'dark' or 'not shining brightly or clearly.' Rather 'dim' refers more to how ghosts are see-through, how their presence in the physical world is tentative. Yurei is also the most commonly used term for spirit or ghost in Japan.**


	22. Bereft- Part 1

**Summary:**

 **Ichijorei's tries not to miss Izuku.  
**

 **Izuku struggles with being left behind.**

* * *

It is so quiet. Too quiet….

How had I ever existed in this barren silence? How had I found any pleasure in this hollow emptiness?

It is too quiet.  
Too empty.

I miss him.

No! Do not think of him… of- of **it**. I must stay away from **it**. To protect hi... **it** To protect myself. This loneliness… that is **its** fault. This is proof of how unhealthy, how wrong I have become because of being around **it**.  
All I must do is wait this pain out. Wait for this, phase- this momentary glitch to fade. I will return to how I once was. To how I am meant to be. Then all will be right again.

…

But… I do not want to be **that** again. I do not want to be what I once was. I like how- **who** I was with **it**... with him.  
 **I miss him.**..

* * *

The darkened sky and end of day only encouraged the lights of the city and local night life to come alive.

Thousands of lights shining out from window after window of skyscraper after skyscraper thrum with electricity and twinkle, creating the cities own version of a starry sky. Shining signs and glowing billboards created constellations for the urban dwellers to map out and follow. Red and yellow lights from cars lit up the roads and streaked across the asphalt like shooting stars.

On the streets and sidewalks, the sounds of life echoes like a chorus of nightly crickets as people passed this way and that. The sounds of shoes clicking, people chattering, voices laughing, wove together to create an intricate orchestrated piece of the normal symphony of the night.

The atmosphere was warm, busy, sparkling, and full of life.

But there was one light among the thousands which was out of place.

No one noticed the small ghost among them who's already dampened faint glow was swallowed whole by the bright spectacles around him.

Not that they would have been able to see him anyway.

The lonely little boy stood still as death in a crowd of moving breathing people full of life. No one noticed him as they walked passed -and through- the ghost. After all, he wasn't a part of their world anymore.

A fact which the boy had known for a long time, but only now seemed to have fully grasped.

Though no one saw the boy, he saw them all. Groups of friends bumping shoulders and grinning merrily with their arms ladened with brand name items, or else left swinging free as they simply wandered where they liked. Coworkers nodding to one another in salutation on their way to their little personalised corners of the world where they could relax and truly be themselves for the rest of the evening. Families out on a shopping adventure, the children cheerfully skipping along to the next thing to grab their attention while parents held tight to little hands to keep their charges from wandering into the sea of busy goers. Couples keeping close to each other's personal space, hands interlaced and locked as starry eyes and smiling lips attested how close their hearts were bound to each other.

The more the boy looked, the more he was reminded of how alone he truly was. It hurt. It hurt so much.

A group of pre-adult girls walked through him, all shining brightly in their own way as they share companionship with one another. One, a girl with wide sparkling green eyes overflowing with energy and joy, was at the moment the center of attention as she animatedly told them a story which had them all giggling like the school girls they were.

The pain stabbed down deeper as it reminded the boy of what he never had… and now could never have. A tears of gentle glowing green flowed freely down his cheeks and dropped off into the air where it joined with the galaxy of aimlessly floating spheres which hung around the boy like planets orbiting the sun.

"Yo! Kid!" A kind, fatherly sounding voice called out from behind the boy, only heard above sounds of the night because of the owners close proximity. The boy paid it little mind as he had become accustomed to. After all, he was a ghost and no one noticed a ghost.

The girls, now a little farther ahead him, stopped at a window display to gush over the outfits on display. None of them seemed to have heard the voice call them (them being the only 'kids' within the area at the moment) out so when the voice called again the ghost boy was not that surprised.

Again the girls paid the person no mind, too engrossed in their own conversation as they debated whether they should enter the rather pricey store with the "Absolutely cute top" (as the green sparkly eyed girl had put it) was being displayed.

For a moment the ghost boy considered turning around to look at this person who was trying to get the girls attention. The voice was just so jovial and genuine, kind and friendly, understanding and strong. There was just something so inherently 'fatherly' about the voice that made it obvious even to him that the man was a father- and probably a good one at that. The kind of father one found in children's books about family, the kind sad little kids wished for in the dark of night during their most lonely moments.

The kind of father the ghost boy had never known.

Well, maybe for a moment Ichijorei had been… no. The ghost boy shakes his head. His back hunched and shoulders drawn up close to his tear stained face. He had never really had a father figure in his life. And why would there be? He was not special. He was not worth it.

He was pathetic. Worthless. Useless.

Deku.

Curiosity killed by his depressing and self deprecating thoughts, the ghost boy decided to ignore the man and the girls. What did it matter to him who any of them are or what they are doing? He wasn't a part of their world anymore. Maybe he never really had been

The boy finally moved from this spot he has been floating in. He is not sure how long he has been standing here. Was it dark out when he allowed himself to shut down in this spot? Or had the sun been out?

He does not remember. And does not care. What does it matter how long he had been standing here completely dead (in more ways than one) to the world. Time was meaningless now.

Everything was meaningless.

"Wait, are you deaf? That would be absolutely terrible- because the only sign I know is milk and there's not a lot you can say with just milk. I didn't even know ghosts could be deaf."

Eyes wide, the boy spun around and found himself staring into glowing, dark magenta eyes that were looking right at him. Not past. Not through. But straight into the open windows of his soul. A soul that still overflowed with wet, dripping emotion of lonely grief and abandonment.

There was no denying it. Not when the ghost boy could feel (see/hear/smell/taste/sense) the aura of the man's soul. Not when he saw the way the man's entire body glowed similarly to his own (though brighter and more lively). Not when he looked into the man's eyes and could read straight into his soul, seeing the curious spark, the excited gleam, hopeful light, and concerned shadow intricately woven in the hues of his irises.

"You… y-you're a ghost!" The 'Just like me' went unsaid.

"And you're not deaf," The man smiled, one corner of his mouth catching upward at the corner of his mouth as straightened his stance so he was no longer leaned over and at eye level of the smaller, green ghost. "That's a relief. It's not often I get to meet another ghost, so that would have been a real pain if we couldn't have talked. Never really learned any signs and such, which is just one of my many regrets if you know what I mean. Anyway- I'm guessing you're new to all of this, right?"

The boy tried to speak. This was the first ghost he had ever met. The first being he had talked to since… since Ichijorei had disappeared. There were so many questions he had, so many things he needed answers for. Plus, the boy just yearned to interact with someone again. For some reason, however, no words offered themselves to him and he was left barely able to nod in answer.

The other ghost did not seem bothered by the boy's inability to speak for the moment and just smiled brighter. "Thought so. You seemed kinda lost there. Not to mention how low your glow has gotten which is something we should try to fix as soon as possible. Anyway, my name is Hughes Maes. It is a pleasure to meet you."

The man thrust a hand forward in a western styled greeting.

"M-midoriya Izuku." The boy offered, giving the man his hand after a moment of hesitation. Once he had spoken, however, the floodgates burst forth and everything previously trapped in his mind came tumbling out of his mouth in an overwhelming rush. "You're a foreigner, right? You have a slight accent, plus you shake hands as a greeting which is definitely more of a western tradition. You don't sound super American though, so maybe you're from one of the european countries. Or Australia. To tell the truth I'm not really good at recognising accents. But I am good at analysing quirks. What is yours- or I mean was your quirk. Do quirks still work after death? I've been wondering about that for a while, but I haven't really been able to test it. Although maybe I shouldn't ask about quirks. It might be seen as kind of rude or as a touchy subject for a ghost. Would it be rude to ask him how he died? Probably. But I could ask what he is doing in Japan. Perhaps he died here? But that would suggest ghosts are tied to their place of death. Just using myself as an example proves that theory wrong since I've been all over Japan… Come to think of it, though, I haven't actually traveled outside of Japan. So maybe we are stuck to the place of our death- but instead ofan exact spot it'san entire land mass. Oritcouldbethat Ichijorei only worksin Japan. Thereareother reapers soit'dmakesense thattheyall couldget assignedtospecific regionsonearth. Ijustdon'tknow enoughtodrawany definite conclusions whichissofrustrating. ButbasedonwhatIdoknowIwouldhavetoconcludefornowthatghostsareconnectedtotheirpla-"

"Woah there kid, slow down." Maes Hughes, who the Izuku had completely forgotten he was still standing right in front of him when he lapsed into his mumbling fit.

Blushing furiously with embarrassment, Izuku stuttered out an apology which Hughes accepted with what seemed his default expression- a cheerful and warm smile.

"It's fine, really. I'm actually rather impressed. At the end there you were hitting speeds I didn't think were possible. But that aside, it sounded like you have some questions which I would be happy to answer of course. Oh, but we'll have to do this on the move. Looks like my daughter and her friends are moving on to the next store."

"So I was right about him being one of their fathers" Izuku mumbles to himself, then looks intently at the girls they were now following. "I-if it's not too personal- uh, do you mind me asking w-which one is your daughter?"

"Actually I'm glad you asked!" Hughes nearly shouted with enthusiasm, chest filling with air as he prepared for what Izuku figured would be an equally impressive gushing session to his own previous mumbling speal.

"That beautiful young lady over there, the one with the most beautiful green eyes, is my wonderful and absolutely adorable daughter Elicia! Isn't she just perfect! I love her so much! And you wouldn't believe how she's grown over the years. She started out so small and cute it killed me every time just looking at that innocent sweat face of hers. Now she's so tall and mature. I'm so proud of her! She couldn't have turned out better. Just look at her, so sure of herself and quick to smile! She's made so many great friends that I've never had to worry about her feeling too lonely with me… you know." He gestured to himself, the smile slipping off his face for a fraction of a moment. But then it was back again as if it had never left.

"She's as social a butterfly as I was, but considerate and smart as a whip just like her mother. It's no wonder everyone wants to be her friend. Unfortunately that includes boys. None of them were good enough for my dear Elicia, though, so I took care of them."

Something dangerous flashed in the man's eyes at those words. Izuku's inner light paled considerably as he stared in fear up at the previously very jovial man. "W-w-what did you do to them?!"

The man grinned, a smile that a moment ago had appeared friendly now turned predatory. "Don't worry, I didn't hurt them. Though that was more to do with this ghost form of mine then my own good will."

Izuku is not sure what to say after that, so he doesn't speak. This, however, has a negative affect as the chilling sentence is now followed by an awkward silence which serves to just fill the ghost boy with more apprehension.

Just as Izuku's anxiousness seems to reach its peak, the friendliness returned to Hughes in a blink and the fatherly man laughs goodnaturedly.

"Don't take it so seriously, I wouldn't have actually caused them any permanent damage if I had been alive. I used to work with law enforcement, you know. Wouldn't do to break the law I'm supposed to be uphold. But I'm also a father and that means knowing how to be intimidating when the time calls for it. Honestly, all I did was scare the guys off. I passed through them to give them the hibigeebies, lifted some trinkets to make them look like they were floating, slammed a few doors, rattled some windows, made the light flicker. You know, the usual ghosty stuff. Guess you could say I haunted them until they left."

"You mean you could touch inanimate objects? I've been able to do it before, but to know you can do it too means it's actually a ghost thing and not… something else. Speaking of… can you use your quirk now that you're a ghost or is that something people can only do when they have a body?"

"Yeah actually. I can still use my quirk." The man smiled as he demonstrated for Izuku. His hand disappeared from sight for a moment as if it were slipping into a pocket. When it returned, he was holding a picture frame. Despite not getting a close look Izuku could easily guess the picture of the man's family was the man's.

"Wow! A pocket dimension! Imagine all you could do with that! Although, that depends on how your quirk works exactly. Can you store items in there or do you simply create whatever you want to pull out? If you are creating items do you just have to picture what you want or do you have to have seen it before? Maybe you have to know the chemical makeup of whatever item you want to pull out. Is there a limitation to what you can pull out? Like size or weight? If the dimension relies on stuff you've previously put in there how many items can you fit?"

Instead of answering right away, the ghost man took a moment to scrutinise the small boy floating beside him. There was approval in the man's eyes that made Izuku stutter, his cheeks glowing a brighter green.

"That's quite the sharp mind you have there." Hughes finally said. Approval was evident in his voice, causing Izuku's cheeks to glow a bright green. "The way your mind works is impressive, especially for a kid your age. You would have made a fine investigator."

Izuku only blushed harder, voice trying to stutter out excuses. The man laughed good naturedly at the ghost boy's attempts. "Its okay son. Didn't mean to embarrass you. Anyway my quirk, called Pocket Space, is literally just that. A pocket of space where I can store things for as long as I want. When I need to retrieve an item, all I have to do is think of it and then I can pull it out of my Pocket Space. The one downside is when I was younger I hadn't gotten into the habit of noting down everything I stored away, so I was constantly forget what I'd stash in there. I'm sure there's still stuff floating around in my Pocket Space which I have forgotten about."  
The man paused to pull out a notebook and pencil, opening it up briefly to show Izuku a list of items; some crossed out while some looked to be newly written in.

Izuku's eyes sparkled. "That's such a versatile quirk! Oh! What about stuff that might digrad? How long does that last in your pocket? Or is the pocket completely cut off from any outside forces?"

"Again with the good questions. I like it. You were right in your guess about outside forces. Anything I put in my Pocket Space remain in whatever condition it was in when I first placed it in there. Was really handy with my wife's cooking. Whatever dinner Gracia made from the previous evening was always piping hot by the time my lunch break came around the next day."

"That's amazing!" Izuku gushed, his ghostly glow shone brightly as his enthusiasm increased. "A quirk that freezes objects in time for however long you need and safely stores them. You could potentially stop a bomb from killing thousands by taking it away to somewhere safer, or store support gear for yourself. Imagine if you paired your quirk with xxx! Wait… that does bring up another question. How many objects can you hold at a time? What about weight? Is there a limit to how heavy things have to be?"

Hughes eyes sparkled brightly showing how truly impressed and pleased he was by Izuku theorised. "No limit for amount of items, though there is- er… there was a limit to the weight. Couldn't go over 20 pounds. Now, however, I can put anything I want in my Pocket Space."

Izuku's eyes widened, his fingers itched to write everything Hughes was telling him. "Really? You mean your quirk became stronger after you died? Why do you think that happened? Maybe it's because we aren't bound to the physical plane like we once were. That would suggest quirks are limited by our physical bodies. Imagine all the untapped potential quirks have."

Hughes, unperturbed by Izuku's babbling, continued smiling brightly as he replied. "I don't know why my quirk is stronger as a ghost. Could be because of my body. Or could be this is what my quirk was always capable of if I had continued to push my boundaries. I'll probably never know for sure."

Izuku nodded. It made sense. "When you were introducing yourself to me, you mentioned something about not meeting many ghosts. That means you have seen other ghosts before me, right? Could they all use their quirks too?"

Hughes eyes sparkled even brighter. "You got quite the genius under there, huh kid. Always asking the smart questions. Interestingly enough, the answer is no. As best I've been able to tell it depends on if the quirk interacted with the world. Obviously if the quirk affected people it won't work anymore since we can't interact with humans at all like this. I met this one ghost who while alive had a quirk that could put people to sleep just by looking at them. But when he turned into a ghost it didn't work since he couldn't interact with people anymore. My quirk only works because generally we ghosts can still affect inanimate objects if we focus hard enough. Although I have encountered a few ghosts who were strong enough to control the elements. Those usually are called poltergeists and as a general rule stay away from them. They tend to be insane and unstable. It's more like they've lost 'control' then gained any."

Izuku nodded, trying to process everything this ghost was telling him. It was a lot but Izuku was beyond grateful. He had been so confused for so long, unable to get any answers about this new type of existence he found himself in. It was such a relief to finally begin to make sense of everything.

Izuku opened his mouth to ask another question when suddenly something Hughes had said put up a red flag in his mind. "Wait… you said we ghosts can't interact with humans at all. Are… are you sure?"

Sympathy softened Hughes eyes and the man gave Izuku an understanding smile. "Yeah. I'm sure. I know there's probably people you want to talk to at least one more time. But I think it's for the best that we ghosts are completely cut off from humanity. Polsteridges already do terrible damage to people without ever being able to hurt them directly. Heck probably half the world's natural disasters are caused by them. Plus most ghosts I've met seem hell bent on revenge. Not me of course. I'm just glad I've gotten this opportunity to watch my little Elicia grow up despite… well you know." He gestured to his incorporeal form.

Izuku mentally filed this new information away (and what it could possibly mean that he could touch and talk to some people when other ghosts couldn't) for later reflection. "It makes sense. Kowaikoarei-san did say that most of the ghosts they encountered had wished for revenge against their murderer. It seems to me that ghosts are made from terrible deaths or unsatisfactory lives. Is that true for you?... I mean- well- I don't mean to be rude and if you don't want to answer me you don't have to but- uh- did- um- when you died was it- er- violent... or something like that?..."

Hughes gives him a critical look for a moment, considering carefully his words. "Yeah actually. It was… terrible the way I went. I had just uncovered some important information concerning the case I was investigating at the time. Unfortunately one of the villain's thugs shot me before the call I was making to warn any of my colleagues could go through. I bled out slowly, every second was pure agony."

Izuku nodded solemnly. "I was on my way home from school when a villain attacked me and choked me to death. It… I never knew how painful being suffocated could be."

"Sorry kid. You didn't deserve that." Hughes fatherly voice was like a soothing balm to Izuku's trembling spirit. The little boy hated thinking back to that day.

"Thanks. You… you too. You deserved to be saved."

For a moment Hughes leaned forward as if he was about to enclose Izuku in a hug. But he hesitated against his fatherly instincts, and instead pulled away. Izuku tried to ignore the twinge of pain he felt at his core.

He would have welcomed physical comfort.

It had been so long since he had felt his mother's hugs

"That's alright," Hughes tries to comfort the ghost boy with words instead. "I've made my peace with the way things turned out a long time ago. One day, you will too."

Izuku nods, taking Hughe's word for it. "I wish I had made your wish when I died."

"My wish?" Hughes asks in clear confusion.

"Yeah… you're wish. Um… ghosts are made through a wish so strong it binds them to the physical plane somehow. Most wish to repay the person who killed them… which ends with them kinda having to follow that person around until they die. Once they die the wish is granted and the ghost is free to move on. At least, that's how I think Kowaikaorei-san explained it. I think most ghosts bind themselves to a person- that person then serves as their anchor to the physical plane."

Hughes was quiet for a long time, his intelligent eyes evaluating Izuku carefully.

"How do you know this 'last wish' deal? And how do you know mine was Elicia's?" He asks, each word seemed to have been carefully crafted as if he had measuring their weight before speaking them. Izuku is reminded of what Hughes had said about having worked with law enforcement. Based upon what Izuku has learned and observed of the man thus far, he probably had been very good at his job.

"There… There's a white thread between her and you," Izuku answers, " and no matter where she goes you're always close behind. That's partly why we've been following her this whole time as she shops with her friends. I mean, part of it probably has to do with how overprotective you are. You seem like that kind of type of father. Which isn't a bad thing of course! I wish my father had loved me at least half as much as you love your daughter… anyway, uh- where was I? Uhm… the… the other reason we've been following her is because you are bound to her. The- the white thread I mentioned before? Well, it's attached from your soul to hers. That… that why I think she was part of your final wish. She's reason you turned into a ghost instead of moving on to the next life. Something like that. Sorry if I'm being rude. I- I don't mean t-to overstep any- uh- any bounds."

Hughes eyes the boy. His hands tremble slightly. "You're right I think. I… I remember my last thoughts. There were so many. Hope that my colleagues could discover the truth before it was too late, regret that I wouldn't ever see my sweet girls ever again, sadness that I hadn't kissed my wife goodbye that morning like I usually did, fear that my friends might soon be joining me. But I do remember clearly thinking right before everything went black how much I regretted that I'd never be able to watch my little girl grow up. I wished… I wished to be there for her, like a father should be."

Something stung and burned Izuku from the inside, heat pricking in the corner of his eyes. Hughes really was a great dad. Better than most children got. It isn't fair that he had died, that he was forced to leave his daughter. That she was forced to grow up without him actively in her life.

A wish whispers in the corner of his mind; a wish to somehow go back in time and save Hughes. Give him and Elicia and Gracia a chance to be the family again. Keep him from ever having died. For a moment Izuku wished he could have been the hero Hughes (and Elicia, and Gracia) needed.

"Hey kid. You with me?" Hughes voice, now seeming so far away for some reason, calls out in a concerned tone.

"Wh-what?" Izuku eyes refocused, colour and shape coming back into detail to reconstruct the city around him and the ghost hovering beside him. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

When had he started crying?

"You with me?" Hughes asks, a kind expression on his face and his voice gentle and reassuring.

"Y-yeah, yeah. Sorry." Izuku nods, blushing profusely as he wiped the tears away from his face.

"Good." Hughes casual smile returned. "Because you still haven't answered my first question. How'd you figure out how ghosts are made?"

"I- er- I d-didn't." Izuku stutters out. He feels grateful that Hughes had chosen not to question the boy's momentary disconnect. "It…. it was really Kowaikaorei-san who told me about ghosts. Plus being around Ichijorei for so long gave me great opportunity to notice things like- like the strings. I didn't notice them at first, but now I can see them on everyone. They hold people's souls to their body but when a person is dying those strings disappear until only one remains. That's the one Ichijorei always cuts before reaping the soul."

"Kowaikaorei? Who's that? Doesn't Kowaikoarei mean frowny-face spirit or something? Jeez, what parent named their kid that? Or am I misinterpreting the kenji here? Gotta be honest, Japanese is not my strongest language."

Izuku blushes a bit in embarrassment, wanting to hide his face behind his hands. "N-no. You're interpreting it r-right. Honestly i-it's not really a-a name. It's just one I m-made up since I've found that r-reapers don't seem to have names for th-themselves."

"Oh, so you already know what reapers are, huh. Just a heads up, stay out of their way. Not that it'll be hard. Those things tend to leave us alone if we're minding our own business… but I've seen them get nasty when another ghost messed with their soul reaping business."

Hughes face goes very serious as he looks down at Izuku. "Promise me you won't go near them, kay? It's much easier to just steer clear of them all together so there's no chance of getting on their bad side."

Izuku blinks in surprise, confusion tinting his green glow with yellow. "What do you mean? They don't seem that bad. I mean, they're a bit stiff and kinda cold sometimes, but once they warm up to you they aren't so ba…"

Izuku stops talking. Hughes has gone completely still, stiller than any living thing is capable of going. It is unsettling to see something previously so animated freeze up so entirely.

The hint of seriousness has smoothed over Maes eyes. It glides over his entire body, sending a chilly aura out all around them. The temperature drops several degrees within seconds. Worry then mixes and intertwines with the grave emotion, the air tingles and shifts under an unknown pressure as chills coarse through the boy's body.

"Izuku, kid. I'm being serious here." Hughes says in a solemn voice. "Almost nothing can harm you now that you're a ghost. Not human, not nature, not other ghosts. They are the one exception. If those things want to they can unmake you."

Hughes pauses in his words. Part of Izuku, the part not completely focused on Hughes and his warning, notices how the people around them are giving them a wide berth. The few that take a step toward them shiver minutely before changing their trajectory for reason's they probably do not know.

The silence between Izuku and Hughes continues, the man staring at Izuku as if searching for something.

He does not find it.

Hughe's sighs, brow knitting together in worry. "You don't believe me, not completely. Come one kid, this stuff is dangerous…. I've…. I've seen them do it, you know. It happened to this ghost I had just met… Her name was Trisha. She had the gentlest soul you could have ever seen. She… she tried to keep a reaper from taking one of her boys… the youngest I believe. She succeeded… stopped the reaping from happening. Did it all with just her will power, no quirk. She was one of the most powerful ghosts I've ever met. But in the end there was a price to pay for interfering with death. That thing ripped her soul in pieces. The suffering she felt was overwhelming, so terrible I continued to feel her phantom pains for weeks after. And the living, those boys she was protecting... they could feel it too. That… what I saw that day…. …. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever witnessed."

"Listen to me and listen very carefully, it doesn't just end your existence. It can make you suffer every pain known to man. Physically, mentally, emotionally. She was being attacked from all fronts. I could still hear her scream even after her soul was devoured. And after all that, there was no resting place for her. No last peace."

Izuku's eyes are wide, his emotions tumble over each other; glitching, combining, splitting, and shaking. He does not know what to feel, what to even think. For a moment, then another he is just frozen staring up into Hughes eyes which are filled with concern, dread, and knowledge.

He knows of what he speaks.

Finally, among all his terror, horror, confusion, confliction one word surfaces and breaks him from the icey cage his mind was trapped in.

Ichijorei.

"No… that… that can't be right." Izuku shakes his head, desperation in his voice. "Ichijorei… Ichijorei-sama would never, NEVER do that! They aren't all like that! They… they can't all be like that. Especially Ichijoreit. Ichi-chan m-may have left me a-alone, but I know- I know Ichi-chan wouldn't ever hurt me. I know because I… I saved Ochaco-san. I kept her from dying, interfered with death just like your friend did. Ichi-chan didn't hurt me then and later when I saved that girl with the frog quirk Ichi… Ichi… oh."

Realisation dawns on Izuku and something cold and hard forms in the core of his being weighing him down. His light which had been warming up ever since meeting Hughes goes dull.

Ichijorei would never hurt him. But he did leave. And now Izuku knows why.

"I drove Ichi-chan away." Izuku whispers, the guilt evident in his voice. All this time Izuku had thought Ichijorei had abandoned him with no reason. Now, though… now he gets it. And what is worse, he should have seen it before. He knows how much their 'job' matters to them. How important it is to them. It is why they exist. Why they are even alive. Their job, their purpose, is everything to them.

And Izuku completely disregarded how his heroic tendencies would have on Ichijorei. Did he seriously think there was no consequence for interfering with death?

He would not change what he did. It was the right thing to do to save Ochako. The girl who nearly lost herself in hopelessness. I girl who did not want to die, not really. She just wanted to be a hero.

Or the other girl. The one with the frog quirk and soothing green soul that Izuku had actually held for a few moments, guiding it back into her body as doctors worked frantically around her to heal her broken body. She had just wanted to save her friend, who (if he inferred anything from the clothing she was wearing) was on her way to becoming a hero. She didn't deserve to die either.

But not being sorry for what he did will not bring Ichijorei back. Regretting his actions (if he even could) will not either.

Ichijorei is a spirit who cannot help being a reaper- an other. Just as Izuku is a human who cannot help wanting to save people- save souls.

They were never meant to be friends.

Izuku begins to shake, sobs escape his throat and bitter tears stream down his face and spill out into the night.

His hands search for comfort, fingers press into his skin, arms wrapping around himself as if to hold himself together.

"Oh kid," a gentle voice calls to him, empathy and comfort reaching out toward him.

Izuku desperately grasps at it, pulling himself against the glowing form of the other ghost, wrapping himself and his grief in the man's emotional comfort and physical embrace.

Hughes gaspes, as if surprised. But soon arms are are reaching around him, holding him tightly. It's a comforting hug, warm and gentle. At the same time it is strong and secure, making Izuku feel safe. It reminds him of his mother whenever she'd hug him after a hard day at school. Always trying so hard to sooth his hurt with soft curresses. It reminds him of Ichijorei whenever the reaper would engulf him to keep him safe from the In-Between. So stiff and unsure of themselves, yet not any less protective.

For a while Izuku cries while the man simply offers what he can to ease the boys pain. Gentle words and kind touches sooth Izuku as the man's calming aura slowly seeps over him.  
It is not his mother. It's not Ichijorei. But for a moment, for this moment, it is enough.

* * *

 **Merry Holidays everyone!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary: Shigaraki usually likes when things fall apart to dust... just not when it is his own plans that disintegrate.**

* * *

Wrong… Wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG, **WRONG**. Why did it all go so wrong?! He had planned everything perfectly. Built up his stats, gained enough EXP, gotten a hold of a cheat sheet, and even brought his rare item that was guaranteed to help him defeat the final boss.

But it all went **WRONG**!

"It's not **fair** sensei!" Shigaraki cries out, eight fingers itching relentlessly at the dry and cracked scabs maring the flesh of his deathly pale neck. "Everything went wrong! Everything! They cheated! The stupid NPC cheated!"

The screen in front of him remained silent, seeming to ignore the furious boy shaking uncontrollably with rage before it.

"You said I wouldn't fail. I couldn't fail. That's what you said." Shigaraki laughed hollowly. The scritching, scratching of his nails digging, ripping into his skin worked itself into a frenzied pitch. Still it was not enough, not enough. All of his fingers yearned to touch, to disintegrate, to unmake everything, ANYTHING into dust!

"You said the nomu would defeat All-Might! But it didn't! It was pathetic! It didn't even make it to the final boss! And the mobs- the mindless, generic, NPC's! They cheated Sensei! They cheated me and I don't know how! Why?! WHY?! Why did my plan fail?! **WHY DID EVERYTHING GO SO WRONG**?!"

The pale man in a black hoodie that hung loosely over his skeletal frame screamed out, vibrations ripping at his throat as the unholy sound fled from his mouth. The scream was followed by a gentle, almost passive sifting sound as the wood of a well polished long bar counter collapsed into a pile of dust.

Absentmindedly a part of Shigaraki considered how upset Kurogiri would be once he returned to discover what Shigaraki had done to his bar. But the stray thought quickly slipped away. Shigaraki focused instead on the slight release of tension he felt after exercising his quirk.

Though still troubled, Shigaraki breathed easier now and feels himself calm minutely; not enough to dampen the raging anger within him, but just enough to relax into the couch and wait for Sensei to speak.

The tv screen before him had remained black and silent throughout Shigaraki's tantrum and now that the had calmed something from the other side seemed to stirr.

"Shigaraki…" A voice from behind the screen finally spoke out, the pale sickly looking man leans forward in anticipation. "Tell me in your own words what took place during your rade upon the campus of UA. Describe exactly what you saw."

The request seems weird to Shigaraki. Sensei should already know what happened. He was Sensei. He knows all, sees all. There is none like Sensei. Not only that, but Sensei had promised he would keep an eye on Shigaraki during his campaign against All-Might. He promised he would be watching during Shigaraki's hour of triumph against All-Might and the hero community.

But Shigaraki also trusts his Sensei and any request his Sensei will ask of him, the thin man-child would do all he could to fill that request. Sensei rarely ever asked anything of Shigaraki. The great man only ever guided Shigaraki with words and probing questions to help the pale man choose his plan of action.

"It was just as you said it would be." Shigaraki began. "The NPC's were surprised to see us, they didn't know we would be coming. Yet, All-Might wasn't there! The coward didn't show until after this lake exploded and then my rare item glitched!"

"Before that," Sensei interrupted, his voice probing but not unkind. He was never unkind to Shigaraki. Sensei always understood him. Sensei was the only one who ever understood Shigaraki. "Tell me what you saw, what you felt before the nomu failed you."

Shigaraki concentrated, thinking back to all he had experienced during their USJ attack. Sensei was searching for something specific and Shigaraki would not fail him. "When we first got there I immediately saw that All-Might wasn't there. So I decided to stay and grind a bit to gain some more EXP and maybe flush the foozle out. It was working. The children were scattered for easy picking. One pathetic mini boss was down and we were wearing out the other's health bar. But then… something happened in the lake near the Centeral Plaza where I was."

Shigaraki paused. This was important. This was the part that Sensei wanted details on, wanted Shigaraki to focus on. The part where everything went wrong.

Where an NPC had cheated.

"There was this... feeling I got before it happened. It was weird, but suddenly I felt the need to… to save someone. It wasn't- the emotion wasn't mine! It was someone else's! Some… some NPC empath hacked me with their quirk!"

Shigaraki seethed. The nerve of that NPC, whoever they were, to invade him with their worthless empathy quirk. He hated how he had no counter attack, no way to shield from the surprise invasion. He hated how he was completely taken over, unable to feel anything but what the empath wanted him to feel in that moment.

Most of all, he hated how for a moment he felt so determined to save- to be a hero.

Shigaraki fingers began itching again, seeking more dust.

"Then there was this- wave of power. I looked toward the source- everyone did, even the nomu. The lake- it just… rose up, higher and higher like from that freaking Moses bible story or something. And the power. It kept pounding at me, pounding inside of me. Like a heartbeat. Pounding, and pounding, and pounding, and POUNDING! Nonstop! Until it hurt in… in here." Shigaraki pressed a fist over his chest, four fingers gripping and crumpling at the excess material of his shirt. He could feel his heartbeat within, thumping and pounding. But it wasn't the same. Why wasn't it the same?

"And I just wanted, I just wanted to save her. I just wanted to save her!" Shigaraki cried out. Hot tears scalded his skin as they began to run down his face. Fingers touched upon the wet track, nails digging in as they followed obsessively over the tear's pathway. Scraping again and again and again until the burning became familiar. Until the red behind his eyes became red upon his hollow cheeks.

"Who did you want to save?" Sensei asked after a long moment.

"No! NO! I didn't want to save anyone!" the pale man screamed. "It was the NPC! The empath! They made me want to save her."

"Calm Shigaraki. Though they were not your emotions, I am certain that they were someones. This empath, if that is what they are, could not have overpowered all of you with fake emotions. Can you tell me who this 'her' is? It may help me understand better what happened and even discover who exactly did this."

Shigaraki took a shuddering breath and uncurled from where he had fallen into a heap on the floor. The tears were no longer flowing, but the hurt was still inside even if it was merely an echo now. "I… I don't know. I don't know. Her, her! It was just her. Green. Dying. Soul. Singing. Death. Saving. Saving. I could save- he could save her. He knew he could."

"He?" Sensei asked, though more to himself than the still shaking hollow man on the floor. "So this empath was male?"

"I… yes. Yes!" Shigaraki hissed. "He. He was the one that cheated. He and his water quirk friend ruined everything!"

The man on the other side of the screen hummed thoughtfully, "Perhaps. We shall see. Tell me what happened next?"

"There was blinding light," Shigaraki explained. "And everything happened at the same time. Glass shattered from the dome above. The water came crashing down all at once, shaking the ground like an earthquake. The empath's quirk disappeared with a snap, as if- as if it had broken away. But no one moved. We couldn't. Everything that just happened, it was too much."

Shigaraki took a moment, the skin under his fingers crawled with needles, the itch painful and distracting. Almost unaware, his fingers found something. The fibers of the carpet beneath him that had been irritating his thin pale skin shift into smooth, formless dust. Relief is immediate.

"It should have been over. We should have gotten back to defeating the mini boss, killing the NPC brats. But then, something else… something else attacked. It wasn't the same, couldn't have been the same. Too dark, too cold, too inhuman. Someone else, there must have been two empaths. But this one, this one was so much worse."

Shigaraki was shaking now. Something twisting and writhing in fear within him, quaking at the mere memory of what he now tried to explain. His voice lowered to a whisper. "It w-wanted to d-destroy. Destroy e-everything. End it all. Extinguish it all. Extinguish me. Extinguish all of our s-souls."

The pale man stopped, struggling to get back his breath. As much as he hated the first attacker for making him feel heroic, he hated even more how this one made him so… frightened.  
He remembers feeling such as fear, helplessness, abandonment. But never before had fear felt so… excruciating. It was like- like his very core, his soul, was stricken.

Soul. Why did he keep using that word? Souls were fake things people made up to make them feel better about death. Souls were stupid.

Yet he kept saying it, thinking it.

This realisation disturbed him.

"I suppose that this was when the nomu failed?" Sensei asks.

Shigaraki started, realising he had been silent for several minutes now, trapped within his disturbed thoughts. "Yeah, yeah. Th-that's when the nomu just glitched. It shreaked, fell to the floor and just… started ripping itself apart. It wouldn't stop, wouldn't listen to my commands. Just kept shredding itself even as its body rejuvenated. Then it just… stopped. Everything. Screaming, shredding, breathing. Even it's quirk stopped. You saw it when we brought it back"

"Indeed I did." Sensei said. "All sparks of life were gone from it. But there is more to it than you yet know, Shigaraki. The nomu was not just dead, it's quirks were gone as well."

Shigaraki choked. What his teacher had just said seemed impossible. He knew his Sensei's quirk. Those quirks within the nomu had been among Sensei's stalk pile. Once a quirk was taken by Sensei it was always his. He may lease it to others, but it would always return to him after their deaths.

"How?" Shigaraki asked, breathless. "How could that be? Who could have done this?"

The screen went silent, the black swallowing up Shigaraki's attention. One minute, two, three, four. Ten minutes. Fifteen.

Finally, finally Sensei spoke. His voice rings loudly as it breaks the long silence. "Not who, Shigaraki, but what."

"I have considered all you have said, all that you and the other's have seen, all that I was able to see and sense. And now I know. Shigaraki, what happened could not have been countered or controlled. There are… forces outside of all you know. You may be a player, able to control and move the pieces to your will. But you are merely playing the game. Out there there are… programers. Programmers who can write and change the coding of the games software to their own whim whenever they wish."

"I shall give you one word of advise before I ask you to not bring this up again. You cannot confront them, merely evade."


	24. Bereft- Part 2

**Summary:**

 **Ichijorei's appointment starts off on the wrong foot.  
**

 **Izuku bonds with his new friend.**

* * *

I am finding myself feeling comfortable again with this existence of mine. My work has become centerpiece in the arrangement of my thoughts once more. This is… good. Yes. Things are good.

Enough pondering. I have work to do.

Shaking off any lingering doubt that shadows my thoughts, I step out of the dark void where the Portal of Lights shines behind me. The In-Between greets me, all emptiness and grey that tries to eat any scraps of energy it might from me. I feel it tugging, a tingling sensation I never noticed before having taken in the boy and discovered just how toxic this place was.

Still, though I feel it, this place cannot harm me. I am immune, as are all my brethren.

Stepping out of the In-Between as easily as one steps out from behind a curtain, I first observe my surroundings. It is a dark place, full of cages and chambers of bubbling liquid. A metal table with harsh instruments hides under a blinding light in one room where I can see a tortured soul being ripped to pieces. Other figures, dark and shadowed with ill intent and wicked centers, bustle around me. Though none dare enter the room I find myself in. They are too afraid of it, or afraid of who resides here.

The beacon of my new appointment calls to me, but I do not - dare not - cannot head it yet. My attention is captured, my spirit frozen as I stare in abject horror at what is before me.

At first, I think it is my boy. The soul shines so strongly and in a way that is so familiar.

But just as quickly, I see that it is not the boy. The soul may hold similarities to my boy, but it is nothing like him. Not really. Not at all.

Where my boy is- was hope, this soul is despair. Not despair for itself, but despair for others. Where all the souls around me are dark forms of dying light, this one is a black hole. I feel its illness sucking all the light around it, consuming all that is good into its rottin center. The more I look upon the soul, the more I know wonder how I could ever have mistaken this horror of a human for my boy.

Still, I can see a familiar spark in it. The way the core form holds itself which hints at a connection to the boy.

I want to smight this soul. Destroy it for even making me think of the boy in comparison to its recess of hungry darkness. How dare it even share any similarities with my boy! He is good, he is hope, he is light and life while this- this thing is the opposite.

I hate it.

But I cannot destroy it, even though I wish to. It is not my job… though that is not what stays my hand.

I am ashamed to say that what keeps me from deviating from my work is not my own good sense, but the mere fact that this soul is untouchable. I can see marks upon it where others have tried, where this soul should have died. But it still remains, no doubt the fault of its quirk.

Or more accurately, the collection of bits and snippets of quirks sewed into its soul. I had not notice at first, but where most quirks are a part of a souls being, this things quirks are welded to it like scrapwork. Cuts and scrapes have been sewn like patchwork into its form, hidden mostly by its aura of consuming darkness.

Oh. I know who this soul is now. It's the Thief. He who steals time and life while slipping through our grips with his stolen quirks. The others speak often of this soul, cursing how often it has evaded us and cheated death. Many have spoken of wishing to be the one who finally reaps this soul.

I think I now wish the same. Such a soul should not be allowed to live.

But I cannot, even without trying I see how its multitude of stolen quirks surround it like armour, protecting the Thief from even one string being cut. This soul is out of my reach.

Cursing it I deliberately turn my back on the being as it sits in this dark room, speaking to a screen that sits before it, and focus my attention back on my appointment. The beacon calls, so I drift through wall and floor until I come to it. I am distraught. Going back to work should calm me.

I hope the sighting of the Thief does not bode ill for my upcoming appointment.

* * *

The sky was bright and clear of any troubling weather which suited everyone within the busy airport just fine. The vollum from thousands of hurried steps, rolling wheels, and restless fidgeters filled the white terminals as people hurried under bright lights, or else waited in blue seats for their flights.

A small group of young foreigners sit in front of ceiling to wall windows, chattering amiably amongst themselves and adding their conversation to the noise of the airport. Less noticeable, one might assume because of their carefully picked hiding spot between a stationary baggage tractor and a solid wall, are two figures hovering just below the other side of the window. One a man with a gentle purple glow, the other a small boy who glows similarly to his partner except his light is green.

The two figures, who are in fact ghosts, showed a certain level of closeness with one another. The man reached out every now and again for some form of contact, a friendly pat on the back, a hand ruffling up his already messy hair, a gentle nudge to the side. The boy kept close to the man and seemed to welcome the touch, despite having known this man for less than a week.

Perhaps in life such behavior would have been unacceptable for people who are not family, if not slightly acceptable for a foreigner who do not hold the same baring for personal space as those of the japanese culture do. But death brings a lot of things into perspective, especially when one's range of social interaction and human touch has been drastically decreased to near nill.

It was no wonder that these two souls, who upon their death have become unnoticed and irrelevant to the living, might find enough common ground with each other as to form such a close bond so quickly.

The two souls stood side by side, keeping close to the young foreigners who conversed happily above. The two ghosts paid the living world little attention at the moment. They were focus was more upon a huge picture album that the older ghost held aloft. The item, which was very much not partly transparent or glowing, was the reason for their secluded spot. The sight of a floating book, with no person nor quirk seeming responsible for the miracle, might have caused the masses unnecessary panic- an event both ghosts wished to avoid.

The man held the book up, excitedly pointing to each picture and gushing, something he had been doing for a good hour. The boy did not seem to mind, happily listening to the man express his love for his wife and daughter. But while their souls flickered with a content peace and happiness, underneath both emotions was a current of sadness. It was a common emotion, one many people are feeling at the moment as they bid their friends and family farewell in the airport terminal.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with?" The older ghost, Maes (for at this point both ghosts were well past last name bases), actually took his attention off the album to ask the boy this question. His usual cheerful voice held a hint of melancholy as he looked down at the small ghost child before him.

"You could stay with me and my family," he offered. "My wife would love to have you and my daughter absolutely adores cute things. They'd both welcome you with open arms in a heartbeat, if they could see you that is."

The ghost winked at the boy while elbowing him playfully, his voice and actions hinted at his jovial nature.

The boy shook his head, smile hesitant and small. "No, I… I'd love to, but I have so many unanswered questions. I can't leave Japan, yet. I feel like the answers are here, in my homeland… the place where I died. Plus there's my mom. Even if she can't see me, I'd like to try and find her again. I was stupid not to find out where she was moving too last time. Also there's this girl, Eri-chan, who I promised to visit."

"I get it champ." Maes smiled and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "You got unfinished business and all that. Go find your mom and girlfriend."

Izuku's hands flew up to cover the sudden bright glow of his cheeks as he stammered, "N-no it's nothing l-l-like that! She's just this little girl- only six! Her name's Eri-chan. I met her before when I was with… well, before I met you. The- the problem is I don't actually know how to find her."

"Hey, about that," the man tapped Izuku's shoulder "So I was thinking and why don't you just go to a social security office and look up the names of the people you need to find there? They would have documentation of your mom's new address. And I bet you could probably use the girls last name to find her too."

The little boy's green glow brightened, the light in his eyes sparking for a moment. But then they cloud over and sadness wraps itself around Izuku once more. "It wouldn't work for Eri-chan. I don't actually know her last name. And besides, I'm not sure the government even knows she exists."

Worry descended over the older ghosts features, his glow darkened and flicked in confusion. Maes crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back slightly, giving the boy a studied look. "What do you mean?"

"Well," the boy fidgets nervously. "Her parents are- or at least her dad is… a…. a villian."

The man's eyes raised up in alarm, though before he could speak Izuku hurried to explain. "When I first found out I was worried too! But- but she said she was fine and that she didn't want to leave. She said they weren't hurting her. Although… I've… I've been thinking about her a lot, ever since- well, ever since I ended up alone. And I'm not so sure anymore. I mean, she's always got bandages on her and she's always in that empty white room. She also seems scared. Not of me, but just in general. And she's so quiet. Sometimes I can get her to laugh, but then she usually stops herself and goes real tense..."

Some new understanding alights upon the boy, his glow to flaring up in concern. Just as suddenly it disappeared and all the colours drained from his wispy figure. His eyes became large and he looked up to Maes in obvious horror. "She's in danger, isn't she! There are so many signs. All this time and I've ignored them all. I… I've let her down! How could I have failed her! She- she trusts me and I just left her there! Each time I just left her with villains who keep hurting her!"

The boy's eyes flickered sporadically as waves of panic crash out of him. Maes cringes at the emotional onslaught. Around them conversation grows stagnant as people become anxious. Frowns replaced smiles and fearful eyes glance toward shadows and strangers, searching for danger underneath their knitted brows.

The boy was oblivious to his effect upon everyone around him, too caught up in his own panic. But Maes noticed. The man looked around him worriedly, seeing the sudden migration of security guards into the area and anxious parents hugging their children closer to them. He himself felt the need to act, to protect his little girl. Accept it wasn't his emotions pushing him to suddenly want to protect his daughter, to scoop her up into his arms and carry her to safety.

She was safe, even if right now she and her friends all looked fearful. Everyone looked anxious. But there was no danger, only a frightened little ghost who was becoming more and more powerful the more Maes learned about the boy.

"Izuku!" The man called out, firmly grabbing hold the boy's shoulders and holding him stead. He brought the Izuku closer so he could make eye contact, shaking the boy slightly to try and snap him out of his panic attack. "Izuku, champ! Listen to me! You need to calm down, yeah? Everything is fine. Just relax. Everything is fine. You just gotta calm down right now. Focus back on me. Alright? Can you do that for me? Calm down and focus on me. There, that's good. You're doing great champ. You're doing just fine."

Maes words seemed to have some effect on the boy. Or at least, it caught his attention enough for him to break out of his own head where he immediately focused on Maes calming and steady gaze. Still, the boy shivered as some wisps of panic had yet to release him. But Maes continued speaking words of assurance, holding the boy tightly and never breaking eye contact with him. It was comforting and just what Izuku needed, an anchor to bring him back into his own mind.

"You good now?" The man asks once Izuku's eyes had cleared and his emotions seemed under control.

The boy nodded, breaking eye contact as he lowered his head in shame, "S-sorry."

"It's alright champ, really." The man smiled, giving his arms a final squeeze before he released the boy and stepped back. "You do know its not your fault, right? You're still just a kid, after all. And dead on top of that. It's not your responsibility to rescue the girl. That's up to the heroes and adults who are still alive. Got it?"

Izuku bit his lip in a worrying manner, fists clasped and unclasped repeatedly by his side. "B-but I can't… I can't just do nothing. It's not right. If- if I know someone is in trouble then I have to do what I can to help them."

Maes was quiet for a time, studying the boy with calculating eyes. Izuku remained where he was, green eyes meeting purple. There was a request in them, a plea for the man before him to understand how the boy felt.

Finally Maes came to a decision. Face still serious, he gave a curt nod and said, "You're right. If you can do something to help then you should. But not acting doesn't automatically make you a bad person either. Sure it speaks about your character, but it doesn't make you a villain. That being said, being a ghost is going to make that job harder."

The man sighed, hand running down his face and scratching at the rough stubble on his chin. "Like I said before, we ghosts are really limited in what we can do. Most can barely pick up a chopstick, let alone wield it. I mean, I'm pretty lucky with my quirk. Once I manage to put something in my pocket dimension I can hold it just fine afterword," without much thought the man pulled out a pen from seemingly nowhere and began twisting and twirling it between his fingers in impressive tricks of balance and skill.

"But," Maes continued, the pen never stopping in its movement around his fingers, "If not for my quirk then this pen would have phased right through my fingers by now. I will say, though, you seem like the driven kind. I don't doubt you could probably hold your concentration long enough to scribble an anonymous message out on some police investigator's desk. You'd have to find out where the little girl is being held first before you try to tell anyone about her though."

Izuku frowned. "But if- when I find her shouldn't I just rescue her right away instead of leaving her to get help? I- uhm- was kinda actually planning on just flying her out of there."

"Carry her? Is… is this girl a ghost?" Maes asked, obvious confusion in his voice.

"Wha-" The boy started in surprise, eyes wide and light fritzing as if hiccuping. "No! She's- she's not a ghost! She's definitely alive. I could feel it. Plus when we talked last she told me to leave early because she was hungry and, according to her, that means food was coming soon. She really didn't want anyone to ever see me. Not that they would, but considering I don't know the what it is that allow me to be seen by some but not everyone, I guess a villain could potentially see me-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Maes interrupts. "Are you telling me that you can not only touch phantoms and ghosts, but people too? And you've been able to talk to them?"

Izuku nodded.

Eyes blown wide, Maes took a step back in surprise. "Well I'll be. You're quirk is way more powerful than I thought if you can actually touch living people too."

That gets Izuku's attention like nothing else. It also shut him down the way nothing else could. His light dimmed and he visibly drew into himself, as if to make himself a smaller target or else prepare himself for the sting of rejection. Maybe both. Maes does not miss this. Mentally he takes note, putting the information inside the ever growing file of evidence that the green ghost had been sorely mistreated in life.

"I… I d-don't have a- a q-q-quirk." The boy stuttered out.

Maes helds his chin as he watched the boy in a considering manner. After a moment of silence in which the boy continued to look to the ground, light becoming more and more agitated with each passing second, Maes spoke up. His voice was carefully measured and considerately kind. "The doctor who told you that you were quirkless was a quack. You have a quirk. It just isn't obvious like most."

Izuku's head whipped up, face shocked and the dancing lights of his eyes freezing over. "I- w-what?!"

"Now I'm not exactly sure what your quirk is myself, but I was never a quirkologist so that's to be expected. At first I just assumed your quirk only let you touch phantom stuff like spirits and souls. But it must be so much more than that if you can get the living to see, hear, and feel you as well."

"But… I can't have a quirk," Izuku argued. "I've got a toe joint."

Maes swiped a hand in the air in a dismissive manner, "That's just an indicator that you might not have a quirk, not a definite. You have a quirk, there's no doubt about it. I've met many ghost's in my time and none have ever been able to be seen by the living."

"I have a quirk." The boy whispered in wonder, his eyes sparkled with a rising joy. "I have a quirk! This whole time and I had a quirk that… that…."

Izuku paused, confusion crossing his face. "What does my quirk do?"

Maes shrugged, "Not sure. Like I said, your quirk confuses me. But if we put our heads together I'm sure we could figure it out."

Izuku nodded enthusiastically, smile wide and bright.

"Great," the older ghost beamed, "Okay, so first is touch. You've already said you can touch people and we know you can touch ghosts." As if to prove his point, Maes gave a quick side hug around Izuku's shoulders.

Then he asked, "What about inanimate objects? Is it easier for you to hold stuff?"

"I mean… I think so. I've held things before. But I can still phase through things as well. It must… it must be based on intent. When I want to hold something or have something not go through me, I have to think about it. I never have to think about phasing, though. That just happens normally. Kind of like phasing is my default mode."

Maes nodded. "Okay, so either that is part of your quirk or you're just a ghost with a lot of determination in you. Or both, could be both. That one is kind of hard to prove either way."

The boy frowned. "I remember you said when we first met each other that ghosts can't touch each other. Does that mean that me being able to do this," the boy poked Maes arm, "is another part of my quirk?"

"Yup," the older ghost affirmed. "You took me completely by surprise with that hug. In all honesty, the last time I touched someone was when I was still alive. Same goes for all of us ghosts. Good thing we don't seem to suffer from touch deprivation."

"We don't? That's good I guess. Wow, there is just so much I don't know about being a ghost. If ghosts cannot touch other ghosts, what about souls? After a person has died and there soul appears out of their body, I can touch them and communicate to them telepathically. Well, it's not really telepathy. It's more like when we touch I can feel what they are feeling and even share my own emotions with them.

Maes shook his head, laughing. "This is crazy. You can see people's souls?"

"O-only when they leave the b-body." Izuku stammered, face flushing in embarrassment. "So does that mean you don't see souls?"

"Nope. And neither can we share emotions like that- which, by the way, you seem to also be to do with living people and ghosts. When you were panicking it was as if your fears and emotions were mine. By the way the people around us reacted, I'm betting they felt it too."

Izuku's eyes widened. "So I've got empath abilities too? But… how is that connected to- to- argh! How is any of this connected to each other! I can't have more than one quirk. That's not possible!"

"Just calm down a bit, okay. Empath, remember?" Maes tried to soothe while gesturing to the people around them.

The boy sighed, but nodded. "I just… for so long I wanted to have a quirk so I could be a hero. I studied quirks and went hero hunting. And now that I've actually gotten a quirk, not only am I still unable to become a hero, but my quirk doesn't make any sense!"

"Sure it does," Maes patted Izuku comfortingly on the back. "We are probably just not looking at it from the right angle. Lets first try to get all the facts that we can, then start analyzing what we know, right?"

The boy took a deep breath, that he did not need anymore but still practiced, before nodding his head. "Yeah, okay. That… that sounds good. Um… so far we know that my quirk allows me to touch stuff, like ghosts, souls, and people… and maybe other objects? I can talk to people too, and they can see me… though only sometimes."

"You don't know what makes them able to see you?" The older ghost asked.

"No, and that's another thing that's been frustrating me." Izuku threw his hands disparagingly into the air. "Sometimes people see me, but most of the time they just can't. I've tried to figure it out, tested out several theories, but nothing worked."

"That's alright, I bet I could help you out." Maes smiled and reached out to ruffle the boys head of wild green hair. "I was an investigator, after all. Finding answers from the smallest of details was my job. Tell me about the people who have seen you."

Izuku, now feeling more excited, rested his chin into his hand as he began to speak, "The first time it was with the hero Flawless. He… he was dying when Ichijorei-sama brought me to him. Somebody had killed him. We talked and I held his hand. The moment he passed, though, his body slipped right through me. At the time I just thought the reason he saw me was because he was close to death. But then I met Eri-chan and I know she wasn't- isn't- close to death. She didn't see me at first, not until I touched her. Then it was like a switch got flicked and she noticed me. Every time I've gone to her since then she's always been able to see me. Although I have noticed she never sees me until after I've spoken. I tested it out once and touching is similar. She can see and feel me, but if I don't call to her or touch her she won't notice me."

Maes, who had pulled out a notebook and was scribbling furiously with his pen, nodded. "So, this man Flawless? Do you remember if you called out to him or touched him before he saw you?"

"Actually, yes! I- I did call out his hero name the moment I saw him. I know he heard me because he turned his head in my direction after I yelled."

"Okay, so now we know you have to be the one to initiate interaction with living people. I'm assuming you've tried to touch or call out to other people since then?"

The lightly green glowing ghost nodded, "Yes, but the only time it's worked since then was with another person who was dying. At the time I kind of forgot I was, y-you know… dead. I just saw her falling and I couldn't think. My body just moved. All I knew was that I had to save her. I called out to her to get her attention, which worked because she looked and saw me. We were able to grab onto each other and I stopped her from falling. Then, huh, the last person I saved was also close to dying. Er- that's not really true. I… I think she actually did die at one point."

Izuku took a moment to just breath, hands fiddling nervously in front of him while he bit at his lip. "I'm n-not really sure how to explain, but… uh, but while carrying her to the hospital her soul wasn't staying with her body. It kept trying to phase right through her. So I kinda hugged it, hoping that would keep it from breaking away. It was weird and I don't think I've ever been so scared before. But she made it, or at least the doctors were saying she would pull through before I left."

Maes stood perfectly still, the scratching sound of pen on paper having gone quiet long ago. By this point awe tinted the older ghost's glow a brighter colour, though a wisp of jealousy clung to his shoulder. The man wished to also hold such power, to be able to speak with his little girl again, save her if (when) ever a reaper spirit comes for her.

The little boy grew nervous by his friends silence and begins to fidget, a learned reaction he picked up from life. It was his firm understanding that when silent stares follow after the boy had let out a string of mumbled words, fists and cruel laughter were sure to come next.

But Maes was not like the boy's past classmates. An optimist would have said few people are so cruel, while a realist would counter that specimens such as them are the norm.

Whatever the case, Maes brushed the envy aside with a quick shake of his head. His eyes refocused on the boy and a sincere smile melted away any ugly emotion that might have remained.

"You are an amazing person, Izuku," the man said, slipping into his own tongue for a moment. Remembering himself, or else seeing the confusion on the small boy's face, he returns his speech to that of Japanese and added. "I'm glad to have met you, champ. You've got a heroes heart, you know that?"

The boy blushes and stutters out a stream of unintelligible mumbled words, not that translation is needed as the boy's attempt to hide his blush behind awkward hands makes his embarrassment evident.

Maes simply laughed, reaching out a hand to ruffle the boy's hair playfully. His grin hiked up in corner of his mouth until it morphed into a full blown smile. Izuku grinned in return, hand batting halfheartedly at the other's arm even as the other attempted to hide his glowing cheeks. Maes pulled his hand away, momentarily beaten off by what should have been a poor defence. Though one could certainly see the promise for a return charge if they noticed the fond and mischievous glint in the man's eyes.

"Okay, okay," the man tries to straighten out his grin, an attempt that fails miserably. "Let's get back to figuring out your quirk. We don't have much time before my daughter's flight boards and I'd hate to leave you stranded when we're so close to figuring out this quirk of yours."

The sobering reminder, that soon this fatherly man would have to leave, pullws Izuku's mind back into focus.

"With this other girl you saved, the one who died, did she ever see you?"

"Yeah, she saw me. She didn't really talk, but we didn't need to. At that point her soul was forming outside of her body so I was able to communicate empathetically with her. She… she also wasn't forming the way souls do when they die."

"How do souls normally die," Maes asked curiously.

"Like- like spheres of light and colour and feeling. For her, though, it was more like a replica of her body was trying to pull away, except this replica was transparent and glowed green. Not like my green. It was a darker hue. Anyway, I… I'm not sure, but I think she was turning into a ghost."

"So what you are saying is it's unclear whether she saw you because of your quirk, or because she was becoming a ghost. Not that helpful, but still something to consider. Is that all?"

The boy nodded, "Yeah, that's all the people who were able to see me."

"Well," Maes, having taken up his scribbling again, stopped to consider what was written on his notebook. "All but the first guy were females. All of them were in a state of dying except for Eri. And everyone responded to you after you called out to them, though it's a tough call on whether we can count that last girl you saved. That Eri girl, what is her quirk?"

"N-not sure." Izuku admitted sheepishly. "Eri-chan doesn't like talking about it accept to refer to it as a curse. She refuses to explain what she means by that, not that I've tried to get her to explain. I don't usually like to push the topic because of how uncomfortable it makes her feel. There's… there's always this look of fear and guilt whenever I try to talk about quirks. Plus, there was this one time where Eri-chan mentioned how happy she was her quirk couldn't hurt me. That comment, plus the way she always acted, makes me think that her quirk must be dangerous to people. I have never actually seen her around other people at all. She's always alone in her room whenever I visit her."

The smaller ghost paused, a worried light settling over his form. "If… if her quirk is dangerous and the villains aren't just taking care of her but… hurting her….…. Then… then that means she must be in more danger than I thought!"

Maes nodded, a severe look darkening his face. "You're probably right. Villains usually kidnap children for their ransom, leverage out of a sticky situation, or to take advantage of their quirk. If her quirk is dangerous it would explain why this villain base is holding onto her. It also means you need to rescue her as soon as possible. She's probably not the only one in danger. After I leave, you make sure you find her. Okay?"

Izuku, looking very determined, nodded. "I will! I promise!"

Maes was about to respond when Izuku light flickered and turned pale. An uneasy feeling from the boy washed over Maes and everyone around the ghosts. Before Maes could ask what was wrong, an align darkness clawed its way into him, causing the older ghosts own light to flicker. It cloyed through him like oily sap, invading him with horror and disgust.

"Oh no." Maes whispered, dread dripping off of him as he wildly looked around as if there might be some monstrocity lurking in the shadows. A great wind picked up, rocking the baggage tractor they were secluded behind. The skies darkened as condensation was drawn together above them, forming dark foreboding clouds.

The ghost child reached out and gripped the other phantom being, drawing himself closer to Maes for some form of comfort. "Wh-what is… what is going on? What-"

A shriek broke through the air and shattered the windows of the airport. Screams from within rose up as people scattered and sought sanctuary. Mini-hurricanes began to form about the many airstrips. Aircrafts in the sky struggled to keep altitude while on ground smaller vehicles were already being blown over and torn apart. Rain lashed down upon the earth and lighting cracked across the sky.

And at the center of it, all floating high above everything, was a child. Their mind and soul overcome by clinging dark tendrils of hate and pain which screamed unending into the heart of the storm.

"Wh-what is that!" Izuku could barely be heard above the destruction around them.

Maes looked up at the being with dread, his light having all but gone out.

"It's… its a poltergeist."


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary: Aizawa is a man of logic... That being said, rational reasoning tends to be made null in the face of overwhelming guilt.**

* * *

As Aizawa made his way toward his class's room, he jostled his bandaged arm which caused the newly grafted skin on his elbow to burn with irritation. A stabbing pain arched through his still brittle bones and added to the headache forming behind his tired eyes which were still stinging from his recent quirk exhaustion. Despite his suffering, the teacher barely acknowledged the pain with a slow steady blink.

He continued his trek up the ardorous flight of stairs. Not for the first time did the teacher curse his past self for ever taking on a teaching job, though this time more than just annoyance fuelled his foul mood.

Now there was guilt there too. Terrible, gnawing guilt that hurt more than any injury could and did more damage to his person than any weapon might achieve.

A child was dead…. And it had been Aizawa's responsibility to protect them.

Aizawa was a man of logic and thus seldom gave in to his (admittedly shriveled) sentimental side. Because of this, the teacher knew logically he could not blame himself for the child's murder. He had, after all, taken the most rational course of action during the villain attack.

However, such thoughts could not null the pain in his chest or the void in his heart.

Aizawa pulled open the door to his homeroom class. The nervous quiet chatter (which was very unlike his migraine inducing squad of energetic preschoolers) immediately fell into dead silence. It was as if opening the door had sucked what little life had been quivering in the atmosphere, leaving behind something stale, achingly painful, and dripping with guilt.

"Morning Sensei!" A chipper voice tried to soften the air of instilled unease. Aizawa looked to the voice and saw the pink figure of Ashido. She was smiling brightly at him, though the grin did not reach her eyes. Similarly, the quality of her usual bubbly voice was diminished. It was obvious to Aizawa that Ashido was putting up a front for the benefit of others.

Kirishima. The normally loud and friendly boy now sat hunched over his desk. His hair, which used to be styled, laid flat against his head. Untrimmed bangs falling over his eyes. The boy was staring off into the distance. His face void of emotion, eyes dull and greyed. The teacher could tell he was not really with them at the moment. Mind lost somewhere else. Aizawa could easily guess just where the boy's thoughts had wondered.

Kirishima had been one of the unfortunate students to have seen the pro heroes fish out the half eaten body of their departed classmate.

Around Kirishima, his classmates were giving the boy careful glances as if their looks alone would shatter Kirishima like glass. Aizawa huffed at their caution. He could tell just from one glance that Kirishima was not so fragile. Behind the hazy grey, there was a hardness glinting in Kirishima's gaze.

Though Kirishima looked broken and defeated, Aizawa knew it was only a matter of time before the red haired boy's new found determination would break out and he would stand before the world firm in his resolve and unmoving in his beliefs.

Kirishima always had great potential for becoming a hero. Though Aizawa hated the circumstances, there was no denying that these children's first look into the dark void of evil in this world had given the boy the right push to eventually realising his full potential.

Aizawa was not the only one who saw this hidden strength in Kirishima's slumped form. Bakugou, the classes eternally scowling faced resident of Class 1-A, had an aura of protectiveness emmaminating off him as he regarded his surroundings with burning eyes. If Aizawa's memory proved correct, Bakugou's original seat had been no where near Kirishima's. It was not hard for Aizawa to imagine just how Bakugou had convinced the previous owner of the seat behind Kirishima to move.

What was perhaps more surprising than students easily giving over to the Bakugou brand force of nature was that the boy seemed to care for Kirishima at all. Only a week ago the abrasive boy had been either ignoring or blowing up at Kirishima and his efforts to be friends.

Now Bakugou behaved as if he and Kirishima were joined at the hip. The blonde headed student literally never left Kirishima's side. Either that or Kirishima was the one who kept close to Bakugou and the blonde just decided to accept it. Aizawa thought it was probably a mix of both.

Like his classmates had been doing ever since the _USJ Incident_ , Bakugou would glance at Kirishima whenever the boy became despondent like now. But unlike everyone else who wore expressions of worry or pity, his gaze was measured. Knowing.

From the moment Aizawa had met Bakugou and looked into the boy's blazing eyes, he knew Bakugou understood the stakes heroes went up against. For most of the class, this was their first experience with death at the hands of evil. That was not the case for Bakugou.

Aizawa did not know who Bakugou had lost, but they must have been close with how it had affected the fiery boy.

A few other students attempted to greet Aizawa as he was musing, but all were drowned out by their vice president's booming voice.

"Aizawa-sensei!" Iida Tenya called out, hand raised in accordance proper classroom rules. Though it mattered little since Aizawa knew the boy would speak before his teacher had the time to even consider acknowledging him. Sure enough, Iida does not even hesitate to breath. "I'm glad your okay! However, should you not resting in order to properly recover from you injuries?"

Aizawa sighed. Normally, it would be illogical of him to push his body like this. But with U. A. having just been successfully compromised by a villain organisation and a student killed on campus, there was no time to rest. So much to be done. Just yesterday Aizawa had pushed to be released from the hospital early so he could attend one of the many emergency U. A. staff meetings. He would have attended them all had the hospital not been so stubborn… and had he woken from his injury induced coma sooner.

What was done was done. Now Aizawa just had to focus on what he can do in the present.

Instead of explaining all this to the class, which would have been a waste of time and breathe, Aizawa simply said, "My well being is irrelevant. What's more important is that the repercussions of the _USJ Incident_ aren't over yet."

The student's stiffened. Many glanced toward the two empty chairs in the classroom. Kirishima, pulled from whatever dark recess of the mind by Aizawa's words, flicked his eyes briefly to the empty seats before sucking in a ragged breath. Bakugou remained as stoic as ever, only the slightest flinch giving away whatever dark memory he was pulling from his past into the present moment.

"First off-" The whole class held their breath. "For those who may not already know, Asui Tsuyu is making a full recovery and was admitted out of the hospital three days ago. She will be returning to class in two days."

Shiozaki clasped her hands in a quick prayer of thanks to the heavens while most of the rest of the class sighed with relief.

"Secondly, U. A. is providing therapy for all of you with our on staff psychologist, Inui-san, to assist you in processing and dealing with the _USJ_ _Incident_. You all are required to meet with Inui-san once a week for a month. After that whether you continue meeting with the psychologist will be up to you and him. I know what a lot of you think about counselors." Aizawa specifically met Bakugou's belligerent grimace head on. "However, keep in mind that most pro hero agencies employ their own psychologists for their heroes. Those that don't instead include psychological visits as part of the insurance benefit. Talking with a psychologist is a part of being a pro hero. There is no shame in relying on a therapist or counselor for support. To think otherwise would be as illogical as refusing medical attention when injured. A hero needs to be healthy in both mind and body. Otherwise they are worthless."

Aizawa took a moment to survey his homeroom students. In most he could see hesitation, but they have chosen to trust him. Some he could tell already understand the importance of relying on professional support. Two still do not think they need, and perhaps will never need, a psychologists guidance.

Todoroki and Bakugou stared back at him with the same unrelenting gaze of cold fire.

The teacher sighed wearily. He knew from the first day that he had a lot of work cut out for himself with this class. The amount of emotional baggage and psychological injury those two students had alone would have been enough work. Too bad everyone here actually has potential. He probably should have expected the universe to eventually have dumped this lot on him after that one semester with a whole classroom of lazy, brainless duds.

Aizawa breathed in, prepared to get this last announcement over with so he could finally rest. "Finally, the Sports Festival has been cancelled to the public."

Just as Aizawa had feared, and predicted, the whole class gasps before bombarding him with hysterical arguments and desperate questions. Before Aizawa can quiet them, other students have joined in with counter arguments and supportive agreements.

Aizawa let the children argue among themselves for a moment. He personally agreed with the decision and had been one of the faculty members to vote favourably. Aizawa did recognised the Sport Festival's usefulness since it did provide a huge opportunity for all students. It tested and strengthened hero student's skills against a wide range of different opponents and situations, provided a way for students in other classes to prove themselves and perhaps change courses, and exposed their talent and potential to hero agencies which helped them pursue their career when they eventually graduated.

That being said, Aizawa had always struggled with how vulnerable it made their students to the villain world, especially those whose quirks relied on element of surprise or had their own achilles' heel. The school was basically broadcasting their students strengths, weaknesses, and abilities, and blind spots to any evil mastermind who might care to use the knowledge to their advantage.

For rudimentary child heroes in training, it placed them in a very dangerous and very vulnerable position. Honestly, Aizawa was surprised no one had taken advantage of their schools hubris until now.

Although, one might argue that they had not as of yet taken advantage of the Sports Festivals glaring weaknesses. The _USJ_ _Incident_ had occurred before the festival, afterall.

That, actually, was another reason Aizawa believes the hand-covered leader was an inexperienced man-child. A rational leader with those kind of resources should have waited until after the Sports Festival had revealed all of his student's quirks. Instead the man child had jumping the gun and staging an attack with 19 unknown variables. It was thanks to this incredible lack of logical thinking which had allowed Iida to alert U. A.'s staff of heroes. Without that, Aizawa knew there would have been multiple deaths that day.

It was this fact which Aizawa and several other faculty members used in their argument against hosting the public Sports Festival. The League of Villains proved that U. A. was not an invincible fortress. They could be attacked and they were unable to keep all of their students safe. So who was to say that a smarter villain would not come along in the future and finish what the League of Villains had started?

How many of them were willing to bet the villains would continued to ignore the golden opportunity the Sports Festival could provide for them? How many teachers would want to continue to put their students in such danger?

These were the questions Aizawa and several other staff members had posed during their meeting. And these are what one them the vote.

It was the only logical decision.

Aizawa turned his attention back to his still arguing class. The debate over whether it was the right decision to cancel the Sports Festival was evenly split down the middle, with only one or two students choosing to keep their opinion to themselves. Just listening to his students reminded Aizawa strongly of the faculty meeting he persevered through yesterday, only with a lot less yelling (thanks to Yamada of course).

The man sighed heavily, his creeping headache that had been haunting him since his injury was threatening to become a migraine. What had he ever done to deserve them?

"Silence!" Iida's incredibly loud and authoritative voice forcibly commands the attention of everyone's attention. "Allowing ourselves to fall into such disarray is unbecoming of future heroes. Not just that, but it is also disrespectful behavior toward our sensei! Please, everyone return to your seats. Remember to raise your hands if you have questions or concerns and wait for our teacher to call upon you."

The room returned to order and Aizawa revelled in the blessed quiet for a moment, long enough for everyone to take a relaxing breath but not for any irrational guilt and fear to begin whispering regret into all of their minds again.

"Now that you are actually listening to me, I can answer your questions. First know that no matter what you say now, the decision was not up to you but to the staff whose job it is to insure your well being. Hopefully that will keep you from asking any illogical questions that would only waste your breath and my time."

Yaoyorozu hand was immediately raised.

"Yes?" Aizawa nodded to the girl. Yaoyorozu was a smart girl and least likely to ask pointless questions.

"As class president, I feel it my responsibility to point out that Aizawa-sensei never said the Sports Festival was cancelled, merely that it was cancelled to the public."

"Wait," a student named Sero spoke up. "So we're still having the festival, right?"

"Yes." Aizawa answered. "The Sports Festival is too beneficial for students training to be cancelled. That being said, it has always been illogical choice to make the Sports Festival public as it only invites potential danger toward students from possible outside threats."

Jirou, nervously playing with her earphone jack, raised her hand. "Sensei. Has the school decided to close the Sports Festival to the public forever, or just this year?"

It was a fair question at least. "As of right now the Sports Festival is no longer a public event, but a private one."

Many of the students gasped.

"But," Denki (without raising his hand) asked, "how are we going to get scouted by pro agencies after we graduate if we never get a chance to show off our stuff?"

Aizawa huffed, "The Sports Festival no longer being public does not mean no one will be there. The school will send out invitations to hero agencies around the country to come and observe. So if you think you can slack off on you training, forget it. The Sports Festival is still a big deal for all of you. The only thing that has changed are screaming civilian distractions and the media broadcasting all of your strengths and weaknesses to every villain who owns a tv."

"Family members are also allowed to come. If you have friends you want to invite, there are forms they can fill out in order to watch. The Sports Festival being private simply means the stands won't be filled with distracting people screaming their heads off, U. A. won't be making any money off of the event, and the media won't be broadcasting all of your strengths and weaknesses to every villain with a tv."

The blond headed student with struggling test scores tapped his chin. "Huh, guess when he puts it that way, telivisionising the Sports Festival doesn't seem very safe."

"Besides," Ojirou spoke up, "If the villains were able to sneak inside and attack us during school hours, think how much easier it would be during a public event. All they would have to do is buy a ticket."

"Man, that's scary." Kaminari shivered. "I don't even want to think about it."

"Aizawa-sensei," Iida raised his hand. "I have a question!"

"Yeah?" Aizawa drawled. His pain meds were starting to abate and true pain come back. He really just wanted this class over. Or better yet, the whole school day over.

"Will family members or friends by allowed to come and support us?!"

"Oh yeah!" The invisible girl, Hagakure, waved her arms about. "I wanted to invite some of my middle school friends! It'd be such a bummer if they couldn't watch me in action!"

"Families of students are invited as well, though there will be no discount tickets like normal."

"Ah man! You mean they'd have to pay full price!" Ashido cringed.

"No. I mean your family will go in for free."

"Why didn't you say that in the first place!" Several students cried out at once.

Honestly, Aizawa liked his ruses, even if they were not always logical.

"Friends can come for free as well. They will have to fill out a form and go through a background check, however. If you are inviting anyone other than family, make sure to hand in those forms in as soon as possible."

"Oh pooh!" The invisible girl clothing slouched in her chair. "That sounds like a lot of work for them."

"Don't worry." Ojirou smiled encouragingly across at his classmate. "I'm sure if it means a lot to you, your friends will be okay going the extra mile."

"Any other questions?" Aizawa asked, before he lost his student's to their social tendencies again.

The room was silent. Finally. "Good. Remember to take the Sports Festival seriously. It might not garner you popularity in the public, it can still lead you to gaining experience and becoming well known within the hero society. For those of you wanting to go pro, it could still open up a path for you in your future. One chance a year, three chances in a lifetime, no aspiring hero can afford to miss this festival."

His dramatic speech of the day done with, Aizawa started unfolding his sleeping bag, preparing for a well deserved (but sadly short) nap until the next teacher would come. "Class dismissed."

The moment his eyes closed, the students all began talking since there was still a few minutes until the next class. Some talked about the Sports Festival, others about Atsui's recovery and what get well/welcome back gifts they were getting her. No one directly brought up the USJ… or their missing student.

Just as Aizawa was about to nod off completely, his phone buzzed.

Not just his phone, but everyone's.

Oh… must be an amber alert or something. He momentarily pauses his descent into exhaustion to check his phone. Just a weather report warning people to stay away. Good, he can go back to sleep.

"Huh," one of the students, Aizawa didn't care enough to match a voice to a name, exclaimed. "Freaky weather phenomenon at Hosu airport. All flights are cancelled and police are urging everyone to stay away. Man, glad I'm not there."

"Wow!" another chimed in. "Check out this news channel streaming the storm. It looks really intense!"

All of the children get quiet after that, the only sound being tinny noise from a phone's low quality speaker. The mere fact that the whole class is glued to whatever screen they are watching clues Aizawa into the seriousness of the situation. But Aizawa tries not to care. After all, natural disasters happen all the time everywhere. If it is not happening near him, then there is literally nothing he can do.

Then one student breaks the intense silence with a shocked voice. "What dark madness is this?"

"That has to be the work of a quirk, right?" Another pipes up, fear in their voice. "It's just too weird. Plus, I definitely see some crazy lightshow going on that definitely does not look like lightning."

"Not to worry! I am sure the pro heroes will take care of matters quickly and efficiently! After all, the reporter said one of the agencies responding to the disaster is that of Team Idaten. The pro hero Ingenium is sure to help take care of this matter."

"Ingenium is pretty cool, but… I don't know, dude. If it is a quirk, it's crazy destructive and powerful."

"What ill fortune has trapped those souls within such an unnatural storm? I pray for their deliverance from this evil."

"Yeah, I hope everyone is alright too."

The children fall quiet again, not even the sound of shifting cloth is to be heard.

Then, "Hey! What happened to the live stream?! Why'd it go black?"

"I think…. I think the camera just got smashed."

"You don't think the reporter is… you know."

Silence again.

"Oh god… all those people."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Right before it cut out… Did that remind anyone else of what happened at…. at…. At the USJ?"

No one responded. Aizawa could not sleep now. He had to find out what was going on. He had to find out now.

* * *

 **I'm back baby!**

 **Oh it feels so good to be free again. Writing has become a meditative stress reliever for me. Going so long without being able to express this side of me was not fun, let me tell you.**

 **Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this new chapter!**


	26. Bereft- Part 3

**Summary:**

 **Ichijorei runs from a problem.**

 **Izuku runs towards one.**

* * *

The grey soul before me is mangled, twisted, and crushed into a pulp. It is in such a state of ruin that there is no way to perceive its original form. Is it even whole or is part of it missing?

I cannot tell.

The body I am taking it from is a twisted grey thing with leather wings and exposed brain matter. At first glance it may appear to be a strangely quirked human. But then I look into its eyes and see how… empty it is. Not dead, nor alive. Just… blank. What is stranger still is how it is obviously dead. The soul floats away from its body, held down only by a single thread. And yet air shifts in its lungs, a beat thumps in its heart, blood flows in its veins.

It cannot be human.

But it must have been, for my purpose is only to reap human souls. This soul is my appointment, a beacon leading me here. Therefore if there was not **something** human entwined into this mess of a soul, then I would not be here. Yet... the feel of this creature seems more monster than anything human.

I think back to the Thief who I had just left and curse that being once more. This is the Thiefs doing. I know it.

I cut the white thread, freeing the soul from the grotesque body it was bound to. I am disturbed to see how the body does not even flinch; still breathing, heart still beating, blood still flowing within its body. There is something greatly wrong with this undead beast.

As for the soul, the moment it is free it begins falling apart. I watch in fascination as the soul literally tears itself apart, pieces breaking off and parts twisting away. The beacon which drew me here splits apart with the pieces, fractioning into smaller points of focus until my single appointment turns into multi layered job. As the soul comes undone, I realise with a sinking feeling that this one soul was in fact several. All misshapen, none whole. It is as if something or someone had torn away different parts of different souls and then attempted to bind the pieces together by stuffing them inside of a single, physical form.

This is no doubt the fault of one of the Thiefs quirks. I am sure of it.

I hate quirks. I hate the Thief.

There is no more time for ruminating, for some of the soul fractions begin to dissipate before my very sight. Others manage to keep together what little is left of themselves, but I can tell they are just moments away from disintegrating as well.

I begin to try and call the souls to me, the songs are more like half notes melded haphazardly together than anything. None of them are really songs at all. How can they be when I am only looking at pieces of a whole.

I work quickly, calling first the ones already disappearing into my folds, then moving to the more stable ones. I loose two pieces, already too far gone for anything to be salvaged. I feel the weight of my failure, scold myself for a job poorly done. I should not have wasted so long pondering as I did.

Another bad habit I am trying to break. All this… thinking is just getting in the way. Yet I cannot seem to stop. Even now I am thinking not on my job, but on my frustrations.

How I wish to never have met that boy. I am lying to myself. I could never regret meeting him. I still miss him.

I have come to the last soul, but I hesitate. This one is more complete than the other's, the most stable of the fractions. There is something familiar about its stability.

A cold sensation washes over me as I call to the soul.

As I fear, it does not come to me.

Stealing myself, I reach out and touch the soul, hoping dearly to feel whatever remaining emotion wash over me and not-

The soul shudders, then takes form.

Oh… curses no.

Wispy tendrils, it's original hue drained from it just like all the other's leaving only grey behind. The faded wisps glitch and spasm as they struggle to take an achingly familiar shape.

It- the ghost is taking the form of a small child.

A boy. Just like… like my boy.

Finally the ghost cements itself (barely, it's form still flickers uncertainty) into its form and opens its eyes. They are empty.

A rush of relief washes over me. This ghost may be small like my- the boy. But it is not him. Instead of a green glow, this thing is a dull grey. Instead of wild, uncept curls this thing has closely shaven, spiky hair. Most of all, instead of expressive eyes that hold more emotion, more light, more hope than any being I have ever come across it has a blank and empty stare.

This ghost is truly dead whereas the boy had always been so very much alive. Parts of it keeps fading in and out of focus. On it's back I catch glimpses of half formed dragonic like wings flickering in and out of existence.

The empty sockets stare at me unblinking. I shift away from the thing, immediately disliking the way that stare makes me feel.

My movement seems to awaken the ghost. It flinches, taking a shaky breath it doesn't need. Then it opens its mouth- and horror spills out. Waves of terror, pain, despair, and intense shock ripple out and mix with a piercing shriek and curdling scream. It is unending, the child continuing its cry of deadening dread with no need to gulp for air.

The noise and emotions strike at me like an attack, yet at the same time it pulls at me in a plea for help. I hesitate. Some distant part of me thinks to bring this ghost under my care just as I had once before.

But unlike last time, I know the parameters of my job. What is acceptable and what is expected of me. I know what I am supposed to do.

And thus, without looking back, I flee.

* * *

In the midst of a storm too devastating to be natural, a child wept.

The storm was devastating not just because of its destruction, though it was doing just fine on that front, but because of its very birth. The wind beat upon the earth with its desperation. The rain stabbed surfaces with its sorrow. The lightning tore through atoms with its anger. The earth shook with its pain.

The child... the poltergeist raged on and all near it suffered because of it.

Amidst the chaos and wreckage, another child hung upon a still breath. A ghost among the destruction. This apparition's thought and feeling were crystalised by shock and horror.

Around him people clung to each other, hunkering behind crumbling protection or struggling to drag themselves out of the storms reach. Further away heroes battled their way through the torrents of the storm to try and rescue the lost souls trapped within the destruction.

But the ghost child saw none of these fearful and brave souls. His gaze was solely captured by that which the living could not perceive.

"Izuku!"

In this tempest which blocked out the sun, the boy gazed upon hundreds of small coloured lights. Like stars in the sky, like fireflies across a midnight field, they shone bright against the grey and black of the storm.

It was like a graveyard of lights.

It was a graveyard of lights.

The bright spheres warmly cast their light upon a twisted backdrop. Pale arms reached out from under hills of rubble, glistening red liquid painted the tips of broken metal wings, empty eyes staring listlessly up at a grey sky from crumpled window seats.

"Izuku!"

Among the lights, among the still bodies and running blood, dark figures wisped across the shattered landscape. Dark apparitions loomed over crushed bodies, collecting the bright lights into their shadowy embrace before disappearing without a single glance at the devastation around them.

The boy watched these beings, so familiar to him yet so strange, stalk silently among the dead without a care for the living.

He felt sick. (Some distant part of him hoped desperately that Ichijorei was not among these callous reapers.)

"Izuku!"

Clutching at his chest, the ghost boy shivered and quaked. He was helpless. So helpless. So… empty. There was no heartbeat to pound painfully against his ribs. No rush of adrenalin to push him forward. No burning of muscles to remind him of his reality. He was like a wisp of smoke, aimlessly drifting above a battlefield.

Izuku never felt more dead than he did in this moment.

"Izuku!"

A hundred souls around him. A hundred lights waiting to find rest.

And what was he? What was he really? Unable to feel, unable to even breath. Only able to see, yet not to be seen. He was a broken soul unable to move on. A dead human unable to make a difference.

The world had changed in the blink of an eye. One moment thrumming with life, the next shattered to pieces. The change was instantly. The shift was drastic. The living were dead within a blink of an eye.

Yet he had remained unaffected. Completely unchanged by the same catastrophic event that was killing so many around him.

 **"Izuku!"**

This feeling… he had felt it before. In the beginning. The first time his hand fased through a solid object. The first time he witnessed the formation of a soul after its death. The first time he saw a murder knowing he could do nothing. The first time he watched a person kill themselves knowing his voice could not halt them.

The boy had nearly forgotten how hard those early days had been. He had forgotten how helpless he had felt.

This… this brought all of those old feelings back, drowning him in deprecating uselessness.

 **"Izuku!"**

Gasping, Izuku startled out of his imprisoning thoughts. His eyes drifted to the side, mind taking note of the pressure at his shoulder… the touch pulling him back into reality.

Maes Hughes stood beside him, large hand gripping at his shoulder. Purple glowing eyes stared down at Izuku, further pulling him from the darker recesses of his mind.

"Listen to me kid!" The older ghost yelled over the storm. "You have to focus. I can't do this without you! A'right?"

"H-help? I- I- I can't-" Izuku stuttered out, his fists trembled uselessly at his side.

"Yes you can! You are the only one who can! Come on Izuku! Use that quirk of yours and save people!"

The words sunk in, driven deeper by the unwavering belief and strength that shone brightly in the man's eyes. Izuku could feel how much the man believed in him.

"How?" Izuku asked- begged. He could feel the light of his soul twisting restlessly around him, desperate to be able to do save someone.

The older ghost smiled. It was strained grin, pulled tight by the desolate situation around them. But he was still smiling. There was still hope in his light.

Izuku felt a tremor of hope respond to the man's smile.

It reminded him of All Might.

"With whatever means necessary." Maes responded. Then his smile dropped and both hands came up to grip at the smaller boy's shoulders. "I'm sorry I have to ask this of you kid, but I need you to put aside your fears right now and fight. It's not fair. You are just a kid. But you are probably the only one who can stop the poltergeist. Please. As a father I'm asking you to help me protect my daughter."

Izuku could see the fear in Maes eyes. Yet the fear did not chain down his grim determination.

A strange peace settled over the ghost child. Helplessness and despair melted from his mind. He could feel himself becoming free.

Izuku smiled. He could feel how shakey it was on his face, but refused to let it slip. "Okay."

Maes grinned back. "Good."

The two ghosts turned their attention back upon the poltergeist who still raged in the center of the storm. By now heroes had made their way closer to the pinnacle of destruction, but all of their efforts to ease the storm failed. Now they were just trying to minimize the damage and rescue the trapped survivors.

"If things continue like this, the heroes aren't going to make it to Elicia, or anyone, in time." Maes said, looking back behind him where his daughter and others were huddled together behind a cracked wall. "With my quirk I can try and keep the debris away from the civilians behind us, but there is nothing I can do to stop the poltergeist. But with your quirk, Izuku, you can stop this storm at its source. Stop the poltergeist. Distract it, get it out of here… do what you have to do."

Izuku grit his teeth, his shaky smile becoming more fierce. "I'm guessing if I can touch the poltergeist, he can probably hurt me too."

"Be careful," was all the older ghost said in reply. Nodding, Izuku faces forward, looks up into the swirling vortex of the storm, and plunges forward.

The ghost child cut through the storm without hesitation, his green glow streaking through the dark clouds like a falling star across a black sky. A sudden click and Izuku had crossed some invisible threshold. All sound stopped. The wind, the screams, the thundering boom of lightning. It all ended. The dark shroud of the storm had also disappeared. Golden sunlight streams downward and a perfect swath of blue sky hung above him.

Bathed in light, the poltergeist hung Izuku. The being seemed to be a young male child with short hair and short stature. Two protrusions flicked in and out of existence upon the poltergeist back, causing the rest of the soul's form to glitch with it. All other attributes were lost in the ashen grey of the beings writhing glow. Blank eyes and an open maw of darkness constantly let out a shuddering screams unnerved Izuku further.

"Stop!" Izuku shouted over the grey souls concussive wails. "Please! You have to stop! You're killing people!"

Surprisingly, silence fell.

The storm still raged, but the unnatural power which fed it ceased. Already Izuku could see how the winds and rains lessening in their strength and the lightning did not reach down to scortch the earth anymore.

"͖͠Y̴o̵̶͚᷈u̷͓'r̸è̟ n̶̛̫̏͡o̸͛t g̨᷆r̸͘͜a͔n̷͙͛͞d̢̫͗᷇͜f͋᷇͝a̷t̖͈h̵̶̺er̦͖͊."

Izuku fell back a step, soul quavering in repulsion at the decayed sound which dripped from the poltergeist mouth.

Fighting instincts which pleaded he flee, the ghost child forced himself to look into the blank poltergeist's eyes and ask,"Wha… what d-did you say?"

The poltergeist cocked its head to the side. "Y̴o̸͛u̷͓'r̦͖͊é̗ n̷͙͛͞o̵̶͚᷈t g̴͒͟r̸͛a̷n̶̛̫̏͡d᷄f̵͂a̵͔ẗ̥͕h̸͙͍ͅé̗r͊̋… ͍̋b̷̷̥̂u̒͘t͠ ̾͞I̼ k̶̫͘n̰͂͜o̸̮̠͐͛w͚͋͝ y̧̨͊o̶̶̶͡u͊."

Izuku's bit his lip, unsure how to respond. One wrong word here and the poltergeist could fall back into its destructive rage. And since the ghost child did not recognise the poltergeist, there were a lot of wrong words that could be said.

"O-oh, well… -mmy name is Midoriya Izuku." Izuku gave a slight bow in greeting and smiled, hoping desperately he hadn't just messed everything up.

The poltergeist stared at Izuku for a moment, then shook his head, "̴̴̴̞N͓͚͜o̵̶͚᷈… ̴̰i̞͂t͠ w͚͋͝a̷̹͗s̰̽ ̸͗s͜o̶̶̶͡mé̗th̵̶̺in̰͂͜g̴͒͟ é̗l̸̸s̻͊ȇ̷̷…"

Izuku was not sure how to respond to that. He was Izuku Midoriya. What else would he be called… unless… Oh no. There was no way.

"Dé̗k̶̫͘u."

Fear, this time Izuku could tell it was his own, seized at his soul and dread seeped into his ghostly glow. "H-how- how do you kn-kn-know that n-na-name?"

"̘͕̳͝D̡ēk̷̪u͊." The poltergeist began to chant. "͙Q̡̬͜u̢͊i̚r̸͛kl̸̸es̸͗s͜ Dȇ̷̷k̪u͊. ̵̵D̵̢̢̛̠̙̅̍̏ȇ̷̷k̶̫̈̉͘ü̆. Q̡̬͐͜u͈͂i̴r̾k̵̵l̸ẹ̛š̘̗s̛ ̵̪̌͞͞͞͞D̡͢ek̷̪u̷͓. ̺̝̿Q̸̷̘̠̩u̷͓i̞͂r̚k̶̛̫̬͘le̴̛̖̎̌̃s̸̻͊͗s͜. ̬̠̙Q̙̮̄u̪̥͆i̠͜r̴̹̚k̸̸̫̤ľ͇͇e̗̩s̬̍̑̽s̶̠. ̡̳̅Q͇̯̀ű͎i̸̟rk̷̠̤̍l̪̤ēs̰̪̕s̴̾."

"NO!" Izuku shouts, hands balling into fists as he grit his teeth. "Stop! Stop saying that! I'm not a deku. I'm not quirkless!"

The poltergeist fell silent, which suddenly seemed worse. The air began to broil around them, a thrumming energy starting to bash itself through Izuku as if trying to shatter him. The poltergeist shrieked and crashed into Izuku, hands clawing and ripping mercilessly at the ghost child.

Where fingers dug deep, soul clawing at soul, white pain seized Izuku and he was invaded by destructive emotions. Alien feelings of hate, betrayal, vengeance, and fear curled within him, threatening to choke his own emotions of panic and determination.

Crying out, Izuku tore the poltergeist off of him for a blessed moment, before the grey poltergeist was back at his throat. The ghost child tried to guard his throat, only to have the poltergeist's fingers find grip within his wild green hair while the other hand curled around Izuku's jaw. A scream of terror rent itself from the grey soul's open maw as it sought to rip head from body. Izuku desperately clawed at the poltergeist wrists and with a burst of righteous fury tossed the grey soul off of him. Immediately the poltergeist fell back upon his prey, but Izuku was ready for him this time. The ghost child ducked under the poltergeist's reach and slammed his shoulder into the grey souls midsection. Such an attack could not hope to stun a being with no need to breath, but that had not been Izuku's plan anyway.

With a shout, Izuku propelled himself and the poltergeist straight up into the air. Snarling like a mad animal, the poltergeist fought to escape. Izuku grit his teeth as the grey souls power ripped into his back and sought to dispel the energy within his own being. No matter what, the greenette child knew he could not let go of his opponent. Not until they were out of range. Not until the people below were safe from the poltergeist's rage.

So Izuku flew, pushing himself to go faster and faster. Light blurred and colours streamed around them, everything falling out of focus as Izuku pushed himself past the limit of sound and breath.

Fingers ripped through his being, stabbing deep into his core allowing the poltergeists own festering feelings of betrayal and revenge overload Izuku once again. The ghost cried out as his body stuttered to a halt, the pain automatically causing him to lose his grip on his enemy.

With a gasp, the fist was rent out of his soul, causing his form to fluctuate and his senses to fizz. Struggling to regain proper consciousness, primal urge had Izuku push himself as far away from his attacker as possible. He desperately hoped his dodge took him far enough out of the next swiping attack. He just needed a moment to regain himself.

The attack never came and the dangerous buzz in the air dwindled. His form shuddered, then cemented itself back into proper form, allowing Izuku to regain his senses. The air around him is empty, devoid of wind and sound. A ribbon of atmospheric blue circled around him as it separated a large curved canvas of white and blue from the open expanse of darkness that now engulfed him. To his left a ball of light cut through the black and crested the ribbon's edge in bright glory.

The ghost boy was floating above the earth. For a moment Izuku was awestruck, taken in by a rare inspiring sight few humans had ever seen with their own eyes.

That moment shattered when the greenette ghost realised he was alone. Or rather, the poltergeist was not attacking him. Looking down, a squeak of panic lodged itself in his throat to see the destructive grey soul charging down back to earth. Izuku lost no more time charging after his opponent.

The poltergeist hissed angrily as Izuku crashed into it. This time Izuku attacked, kicking and punching even as he kept a firm grip on the grey soul so it could not escape him. The poltergeist cried out in furry and pain, spitting out words of damnation.  
"̡̛̬̮̰̋U̸̲̗̎s͚̍é̘̪̆lě̵̘̠̏̈s̉̎̕s̷̡! Q̸̟̏̈ú̜̑̌i̥̕r̴̪̙̦k̶̙̗̂̐ľ̆́e̸̛̗̫̎̂s̴̭̜̀̓̐̍s̟̋̑̉̔! ̶̢̦̐̌Q̵̩̂̈u̡̗̱̐i̠̚r̯̩̍̓ǩ̤̈̒l̵̢̪̝̐e̷̢̛͂̕s̩̦̑̕s̈̌̓ ̤̪̍̐̕D̦̭̍̒̂̊e̴̛̖̎̌̃k̵̸̛̖̐̍̋̑ư̠̦̍̍̇̒!" The poltergeist cried out as it attempted to utterly disperse the green soul before it. "̘̩̇̍̑̑Ņ̤̫̞̒̚ő̶̑̾t̸̡̚ ̭̾̕f̮̏̈à̵̗̬̒ȋ̴̦r̷̙̍! ̵̗̮̘̓̊N̘̗̑͟ǒ̢̝͐t̴̍̉ ̷ḟ̗â̺̞̈ì͒͜r̵͍̍̏! ̣̋̒W̵̫̋̆̇h̵̛̖͖̊y̙̜͆̕ ÿ̫̙͇̊o̢͕̺̔̑̄ű̦͝?! ̳̯͚͔̎̀͜Q̶̛̠̽ȕ̮̕͜i̖̣̇r̯̬̀̍k̪̮̂̑l̫̙̬̬ĕ̸̗͚̾͌̕s͚͕̼̠̏s̶̴̡̐ Ď̷̰̖̿e̯̠͢k͎̩̇u̯̒̔! ̡̜͓̉͂́͠Q͔̗̩̮̣̑̾͊ȗ̫̗ȉ̶̸̸r̲̒͌ḳ̵̢͕̒ḻ̟̜̊e̺̻͔̅̿s̴͕͌̚ṡ̟͎͚̚! ̠̯̍̑̎̿̋W̶̯̥̟̄ḩ͔̩͐̕y̷̵̳ ṇ̶̒ͅo̹͈̐́ͅt̵̥ ̰̹̭́̾m̵̹̬̗̌̓͋ệ̯͐?!"

"I don't even understand what you're saying!" Izuku screamed back. "But it doesn't matter, because I have to stop you no matter what!... I'm sorry..."

With a final cry, Izuku plunged his hand deep into the poltergeist form and pressed everything down into their forced connection. His memories. His pain. The starile air of the doctor's office where his dreams were first shattered. The shocked pain when his friend first punched him into the dusty ground. The scalding heat on his skin where he received his first burn. The sinking feeling in his heart the first time doubt began to eat away inside of him. The hollow cold that sunk into his chest and bones when he realised how truly alone he felt in a classroom full of people. The dizzying fog that descended upon him the first time he looked at a blade and thought how easy it would be to make one simple cut. The helplessness that choked him along with the slime during his final moments of breathe.

The flaring hope that always promised better days to come. The soft touch of his mother's hand every time she asked him if he was alright after coming home from school. The burning determination in his chest that helped him walk away from the roofs edge every time. The inspirational acts of heroes every day that continued to give him hope to keep fighting.

The despair that gripped his heart as he died, believing he had lost his chance to become a hero and save people.

The sense of peace that came over him the first time he reached out and comforted a departed soul. The bell like sound of hearing Eri laughing for the first time. The look of utter relief and hope that relite in amber eyes the first time he saved a living person. The complete trust a girl had in him as she placed her hand into his and let him pull her away from death.

The soft look Izuku spied once in a while on Ichijorei's face whenever the reaper thought Izuku wasn't looking.

All of this and more washed through the poltergeist, drowning the grey soul in a tidal wave of emotion. As the poltergeist floundered in the essence of Izuku's being, other feelings and memories bled through to Izuku's side of the connection.

Memories of a normal, happy childhood. Elated joy whenever red wings took his feet off the ground. The boundless sky and future hope that one day little wings would grow bigger and take him up into the blue freedom. The pride when Grandfather said his quirk was good.

Dark. Uncertainty. Wrongness. Fear. Creeping dread. Shaking fingers clung to a cold hand, desperately trying to keep their trust in those large hands despite the scariness happening around him. Cold metal. Flat surface. Spiking fear. Pain. Pain! Pain! BETRAYAL! No please! Stop! Stop! Grandfather! Don't do this! Save me uncle! Please! Please! I wan't mamma! I just want mamma! Mamma! Cutting. Shredding. Tears. Burning. Scream. Ragged breath. Dark figure. Looming. Hand reaching. Taking. More pain more pain more pain morepainmorepainmorepainpainpainpainpainpainpain.

Soul shredded. Quirk ripped out. Death.

Izuku pulled back, gasping from shock as his soul trembled. The grey poltergeist before him lay apathetically in the darkness of space. Tears silently dripping away in a flow of despair. Empty eyes staring off into darkness, somehow even more void than before.

It took a moment for Izuku to collect himself. To realise those memories and feelings were not his. To realise who the grey soul was.

"Tsubasa-chan." One of Kacchan's old friends (and thus Izuku's bully)… before their classmate disappeared on the cusp of middle school.

Now Izuku knew why.

It took the ghost child a moment more to realise his trembling was not from fear… but anger.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku reached out a hand and gently touched Tsubasa's shoulder. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

The grey soul looked at him then, empty eyes still streaming dusted tears. "̢̋H̸̸̬̯̄e̠͐̃ ̡̛̭w̴̠̯̆̍a̢͇̒n̛̘͈̾t̤̉e̋̽d͓͜ m͎̎̇y̵ ͈͆q̻͉ú͙͎̊͗i͚͑r͑k͖͋. ̵̸̮̙̂H̵̵̨̦͓͐e͚͕̥͂̑͘ o̢̤͋n̞̒̓l̖̬̆y̦͡ͅ ȇ̢̳v̥̖̉ͅe̟̹͓̊r̞͍̉ w̶̸͚̖a̎n̗͑t̹̋̐e͓͔͇͘d̰̖̐͌ m͙̰͗y̿̚ q̰͛̎ǔ̺̤̽i̢͋̚r̒͘k͎͔ͅ. I̤̾̐f̸ ọ̍n̰̩͐ḷ̰y̿ I͜ h̖ͅa̙͋d̹́ b̜͘ͅe̶̩e͖̝n̡̆ q̧̘̋u̧͌i̡͐r̡͈k͎̽l̠̣̒e̢͓͂s̴̚s."

Izuku pulled Tsubasa forward into a hug, tucking the smaller grey soul under his chin and curling protectively around him.

Tsubasa hung limply in the embrace, shocked and unsure. Then something loosened within the incomplete soul, and he returned the embrace. Quiet wimpers turned into muffled sobs until the grey soul was wailing into Izuku's chest. Like a scared little child would when they are finally able to feel safe.

Time passed. The earth spun on its axes. The grey child cried until there was no negative emotion left inside of him. Silence fell. But both children found it comforting. Stars shone far out in space. The sun lit up the ethereal blue planet below them. Grey took comfort in Green's comforting embrace.

Finally the Tsubasa pushed himself away. Izuku let go of his grip, allowing the grey soul to make as much space between them as he wished. Tsubasa, eyes still empty though no longer void, looked into Izuku's emerald green gaze and smiled.

"T͚ḥan͒k y̡o̒u, Iz͐uk͙̭u."

Then he faded away.

* * *

 **Hehehe... sorry for missing a month. This chapter had NO BUSINESS being so difficult. But, alas, it was.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary:**

 **They say knowledge creates understanding... But Momo is _not understanding_ any of this.**

* * *

When Momo Yaoyorozu walked into UA, she knew not to be surprised to see that she was not the first person to arrive despite the early hour. No, that honor usually belonged to Iida Tenya. Knowing what she did of the Iida family and their respective standing within her family upper circles, it only made sense that an Iida would be punctual.

Knowing what she did of her fellow classmates, it was even more natural that Tenya Iida would always be the first into class. The younger Iida was dedicated, strict, and extremely passionate about nearly everything in his life. Momo greatly respected and appreciated his attitude.

Sometimes, however… sometimes when curled up atop her bed (swallowed up by the silence of an empty house, made all the more distant and overbearing by its scale and grandeur) Momo wondered if Tenya Iida would have been a better pick for class president. So confident. So dedicated. So sure of himself and his future. Quirk, body, and mind. Everything in him worked in tandem to create a perfect hero.  
And what did she have to prove herself? What were her qualities, but those she lucked out on from birth. A family name. A special quirk. A modelesque body. Such amazing selling points. Without them, however, she was nothing. A scared, nervous, and normal girl trying to fit into a mold made and set out by others.

Smile at the camera. Sit straight. Look the part. Show off your body. It's the only way women can get anywhere in this world. Be confident and sure. Remember your place. Do not speak out of turn. Play by their rules. It's a man's world, after all, darling. If you want to be successful, you have to look the part.

There was never any advice from her mother how to feel the part.

(If only she was a better liar…. Then maybe she could even fool herself.)

Shaking off her dreary thoughts (don't think of such things now. Not when the curtain is about to be drawn and the play to start) Momo pulled open the door to the A-1 classroom fully expecting Iida Tenya to already be sitting at his desk, posture perfect, pen set to the top, notebook in the center, eyes facing the front.

Except today Iida was not sitting at his desk and not the only one in the room. For a moment Momo was startled to see the Iida boy not sitting at his desk. Then her mind caught up with her and she remembered that today was the day.

The day Tsuyu Asui was returning to school.

Excitement and trepidation filled Momo's veins as she turned her head, eyes seeking out one of the desks which previously had been marked by anxious emptiness. There sat Tsuyu Asui. Dark crescent moons shadowed her eyes and the pale of her skin seemed translucent. But her eyes glittered with life, her body filled with a determined energy that kept her poised and ready for action.

Momo felt a crashing wave of relief wash over her. It was one thing to know that one of her close classmates was recovering. It was another to see that classmate in person, in one piece and alive.

The class president was filled with more joy than she had felt in a long time. She wanted to rush forward. Incircle her classmate she so feared would die in a hug. She wanted to cry tears of pent up worry and spilling happiness while blabbering on and on how thankful she was that Asui was alright.

So great was Momo's relief, she nearly let go of her composure and did all of these things.

A quick breath caught her. A stuttered step halted her. A blink later and Momo was back in control, able to keep her ever important collective aura.

Asui watched her the entire time. Whether the girl had seen Momo's moment of weakness or not was hard to tell. Large glass eyes of dark pools just watched, expression ever the same.

Momo shifting her gaze to the side and pretending nothing had happened.

It was then she noticed Iida standing beside the green haired girl. He had yet to notice Momo, which was unusual for the very observant student. Instead he was focused wholy on Tsuyu.

"As commendable as it is to not wish to miss too many days of school," Tenya Iida was loudly saying to the girl, hands chopping the air robotically. "It is also important that you are able to properly heal and recover! If you feel at all overwhelmed or tired, please be sure to inform our teacher's immediately! I am sure they would be more than willing to let you rest in the nurse's office or even return home. There is also no need to worry about missing lessons as I have been sending you our assignments and my own class notes. You have been receiving them, haven't you Asui-san? I hope I did not get your phone number."

Momo cursed herself inwardly. It had never even crossed her mind to make sure Tsuyu was getting class notes and work so she would not fall behind. (Here again was another reason she knew Iida would make a better class president than her.)

"Yes, Iida-chan." Asui answered in her ever calm voice. "I did receive your notes. Thank you, kero. Although, don't send anymore through text. My family doesn't have an unlimited phone plan. Just ask for my email next time, kero."

Momo felt herself wince at Asui's bluntness, but Iida took it all in stride. "Yes! Of course! Such a strategy would have been much more efficient! My apologies Asui-chan! I should have thought up such a solution before! I will gladly pay for any extra costs to your account I may have caused you and your family!"

Asui smiled warmly at Iida, "That's okay, kero. Don't worry about it. Oh, and call me Tsuyu-chan."

By this time Momo had made her way toward the two. Feeling that her diplomatic smile was in place, Momo spoke. "Asui-chan. I am glad to see you safe. We were all very worried after… after all that happened. I hope you have fully recovered."

Asui turned her attention to Momo and gave a nod in reply, then added, "Thank you, kero. I am doing better. Oh, and could you also please call me Tsuyu-chan, kero. All of my friends do, and you guys are my friends."

Momo felt a blush warm her cheeks, only to look up and see Iida similarly graced by red cheeks. It made sense that Asui's forward nature could startle two of the classes most formal students.

"Of course Asu- I mean, Tsuyu-chan!" Iida nearly saluted while Momo stammered out a, "Y-yes, if you like."

Asui (or rather Tsuyu) smiled warmly at them, before focusing back on Momo. "Were you able to tell everyone about the meeting, kero?"

Momo nodded, "Yes. I contacted everyone about your wish to meet up early with them. They should be here shortly."

"I admit," Iida spoke up, "I am curious to know why you requested a meeting."

Tsuyu shifting her head slightly to the right so she was no longer looking at them. At the beginning of the year Momo would have thought nothing of the shift in Tsuyu's form. But Momo was observant, and while Tsuyu did not have obvious tells in her body language, she still did have tells. And this motion told Momo Tsuyu was nervous.

"You'll see as soon as everyone else gets here."

Momo nodded respectively, though her mind began to work furiously to figure out what topic could possibly make Tsuyu uncomfortable. It ranged from Tsuyu wanting to confide in everyone about her experience to Tsuyu telling them she was going to drop out of the hero course.

The latter was the much more likely, and much sadder. Momo truly respected Tsuyu and believed that the girl would one day make a fine hero.

Momo was julted from her pondering by the slamming of a door and drumming of feet as their their peers flooded into their classroom. Momo took a startled step back at the sudden onslaught of voices, looking up to see nearly their the entire class had converged upon them at once.

Mina Ashido and Toru Hagakure were clinging to Tsuyu, crying and loudly expressing their great relief in her return. Koji Koda was also crying, though he was respectful of Asui's personal space. Ibara Shiozaki, also in tears, had her hands clasped and eyes gazing toward the heavens as she gave praise and thanks for Asui's safe return to them. Rikidou Sota was holding aloft a cake to keep the tightly packed crowd from squishing the delectable smelling treat. Everyone else had circled protectively around the tearful reunion, articulating their great relief and joy at having Tsuyu back.

Looking at the crowd with a critical eye, Momo could see each person expressing their guilt in some manner. A stiff posture, twitching hands, eyes that refused to look anywhere but the floor, trembling tenor to a voice. Everyone bore in some way the belief that they had failed Tsuyu… and Mineta.

Momo felt that same burden upon her own shoulders. She was class president… and yet she had been useless hero, unable to help save anyone but her own skin.

(Good looks, good quirk, good family name. It all meant nothing in the real world. None of it had helped save Mineta or protect Tsuyu. Momo, the real Momo under all that gilded gold, was worthless.)

"Everyone step back!" Iida's commanding voice forcefully caught everyone's attention. "Please give Tsuyu-chan room! While showing our fellow student how much we care is commendable, please remember that Tsuyu-chan is recovering and no doubt still injured!"

"Oh my gosh!" Ashido jumped away as if Tsuyu were a burning iron. "You're totally right! That was, like, sooo insensitive of us!"

Hagakure (supposedly) waved her hands about frantically. "Hope we didn't hurt you!"

"It did hurt a little," Tsuyu said. "But I'm fine."

"That's good old Tsuyu for you. Always speaking her mind." Hanta Sero cheered. Denki opened his mouth to make a (most likely insensitive) comment of his own, but was thankfully interrupted by a shout from the room's doorway.

"Tsuyu-chan!"

A red blur shot through the crowd and Tsuyu was once again caught in a classmates embrace. Eijiro Kirishima, who had not been there a moment before, was now cradling Tsuyu to him, crying loudly as he buried his face into her silky green hair as he cried aloud.

For a moment Momo was sure Iida was going to separate them. Then a little hiccuping croak froze everyone.

Glassy tears slipped down Tsuyu's own cheeks as she buried her face into Kirishima's shoulder. Tsuyu was shaking. And so was Kirishima.

"You're okay, you're okay." The red headed boy tried to soothed through his own sobs. "Y-you're here now. We're all here now. And I promise- I promise you won't be alone again. I'll get stronger. We'll all get stronger. Together. And next time. Next time we'll be there for you."

"Yeah!" Ashido wailed out in a strange mix of tears and exuberance. "We're all going to be here for you Tsuyu! We'll protect you so that never happens again! Right guys?"

"Yeah!" Everyone echoed back, raising their fists in the air. Momo faltered. She wanted to make that promise too. But she could not because…. being a hero meant that it might- no- would happen again. They would be attacked again. They would be separated or surrounded or just not even there. Did not matter how it happened. The point was at some point, they would not be there for her.

To make that promise, a promise she knew she could not keep, would be… be...

"Stupid."

All the voiced died upon hearing such a sharply spoken word. Turning to the door, Momo felt herself tense to see Bakugou glaring at all of them. His red eyes burned a liquid fire as they swept across the shocked faces.

Molten lava met shadowed glass. Neither wavered. Bakugou's scarlet gaze narrowed, then began stalking toward Tsuyu.

"What the heck ma-" Denki stepped forward, but was cut off when Bakugou's hand enveloped the boy's face, then effortlessly pushed him away. Bakugou's gaze never left Tsuyu's.

There was squeak of sneakers as Bakugou halted in front of the smaller green haired girl. His looming shadow dwarfed her. For a moment Momo thought that she should step in, intervene, and keep Bakugou from bullying their recently traumatised classmate.

But something made her keep still. Everyone was looking at Bakugou in shock, trepedation, rage. Everyone accept Kirishima.

Kirishima looked at Bakugou with trust.

So Momo stayed still.

A moment more of silence, then Bakugou spoke. "Making a promise like that is fucking stupid. Only fucking idiots would believe dumb ass promises like that."

"Bakugou! Stop this at-" A distressed Iida tried to step forward, but was halted by a loud explosion and the full fury of Bakugou.

"Shut up, Glasses! You and everyone else in this damn room are a bunch of fucking morons if you're really gonna make shitty promises like that!"

"Hey!" Kyoka Jirou spoke out, glaring venomously at the angry blond. "You better back off right now. She doesn't deserve to be talked down by a rage monster like you!"

Bakugou rounded on her, sparking flames. "I said shut the hell up!"

"Guys stop!" Kirishima threw himself between Bakugou and Jirou, body automatically becoming ridgid. "Let Katsuki-kun say his piece. Trust me, okay? He's not-"

"A what?" Jirou rounded on Kirishima. "Were you going to say he isn't a bad person? Because I'm sorry Kirishima but you're wrong!"

"But he's not guys. Come on, if you would just let him finish."

"You want us to let him continue screaming at Tsuyu?" Ojirou glared at Kirishima, tail twitching in agitation.

"No that's not what I-"

"I can't believe you, Kirishima. And here I thought you were an okay guy."

"Dude, I think you've been spending too much time around brooding porcupine."

"Hey! Back the fuck off! Nobody asked you lot to start spouting shit!"

"Like, did we ask you to talk either. Man, until now you've just been silent. Kinda wish you'd go back to giving us all death glares in your little corner."

"What a mad banquet of darkness."

"Darkness indeed, one that I prey shall not befall us long. Please everyone, this was meant to be a time of rejoicing."

"Bakugou, I demand you apologize for your shameful behaviour toward Asu- I mean Tsuyu-chan."

"I mean, seriously. She just got out of the hospital. Lay off!"

"M-maybe I should go put this cake somewhere safe, since you all seem- uh- busy."

"Now look, you guys chased away the desert."

"Just great! You two have ruined everything!"

"Yeah, Kirishima. Why'd you have to bring the collosal jerk with you?"

"ENOUGH!"

Finally, blessed silence fell. Everyone turned to look at Momo who now stood at the teacher's podium. Momo steadied her breath, making sure to exude an air of authority and calm before she let her dark eyes meet the crowd. She was class president. It was her duty to lead her peers… and to hear them.

And when no one else listened, it was her duty to help them be heard.

"Everyone, withhold from you shameful conduct and keep your silence. Tsuyu-chan wishes to speak."

Suddenly all eyes turned to Tsuyu who this entire time had remained still and placid among the turmoil.

"Thank you Momo-san." The frog girl nodded toward the class president, then turned her gaze upon everyone else. They all froze. "Thank you for standing up for me, but I want to hear Bakugou out."

Voices broke out in protest but with a shake of the green girl's head, they fell silent again. "This is my decision to make. You don't have to like it. I only ask you to respect my choice, kero."

When no one offered further objection, Tsuyu looked back to Bakugou as a silent invitation.

The boy studied her a moment longer. His face was still pinched, still wearing its common scowl. Momo could see what everyone else saw. A rough delinquent filled with condescending anger. At the same time, Momo thought she saw more.

An evaluating eye. A shared pain. "Fine. You gonna hear me? Well here it is. If you are gonna rely on others to keep you safe, then you don't fucking belong here. Being a hero means you fucking fight to be the fucking best. Doesn't matter how many times these worthless shits promise to save you. One day you'll be alone again and it'll be all on you. So if you aren't strong enough, you're dead."

A chill ran up Momo's spin, frost seemed to still the very particles in the air. White wisps of unsteady breaths floated from open mouths.

"So," Bakugou growled, his whole self laser focused upon Tsuyu's smaller form. "What's your choice? Either keep fighting or leave right now."

A stuttering beat of the heart. A simultaneous intake of air from a dozen lungs.

Tsuyu's gaze never left Bakugou… never wavered.

"Fight." Tsuyu breathed out, a steal tone full of conviction. "I am going to fight and become stronger. I will be a hero."

Bakugou watched her a moment longer. Then straightened with a nod. Without another word he turned and began walking out of the room.

"Wait, kero." Tsuyu called out. "I need you to stay, Bakugou-san. I have something important to talk about how I survived. I believe everyone needs to hear it… including you, kero."

For a moment it appeared that Bakugou would not listen. Momo was surprised when Bakugou did turn around.

"Fine." He huffed, slumping into his desk then proceeded to glare murderously out the window and away from where the majority of everyone was gathered around Tsuyu.

Bakugou was full of surprises today. Momo realised that she really did not know this classmate at all.

"Oh yeah!" Ashido burst through the previous tension. "Momo said you wanted a meeting with everyone? Gotta admit, I'm super curious."

Everyone else began piping up at once now that Ashido had reintroduced their classrooms more comfortable atmosphere. Momo quickly realised they were about to get lost on more rabbit trails.

"Yes," Momo loudly projected, smiling pleasantly to take the edge off her forceful tone. "Now that everyone is here, we are all ready to listen to you, Tsuyu."

Thankfully, the class seemed to take her cue and quieted down, putting all attention back on Tsuyu.

Nodding her thanks, Tsuyu stood up straighter and positioned herself to face the entire class. Momo wondered if she was the only one to notice the girls hands trembling slightly.

"I watched Mineta die." Tsuyu spoke, voice as steady as the undisturbed surface of a pond. Gasps and full body flinches rippled out from the class.

"We were a few yards away from the shore." Tsuyu continued unwavering, hands still trembling. "I thought we would make it. But one of the villains got Mineta-san from behind. They bit him in half."

Everyone shuddered. Kirishima reached forward and grabbed Tsuyu's hand. He and Bakugou had been one of the few students to see the police drag the body out of the water.

"I fell into shock and froze up. That was my mistake. That's how the other villain got me."

"Oh Tsuyu-chan!" Hagakure cried out. "Don't blame yourself. We're all still in training. Of course you'd freeze up."

Tsuyu cocked her head. "Kero… Perhaps, but it's a rookie mistake no one can afford to make. One which I will not allow myself to make again, no matter what."

The green haired classmate paused to take a deep breath. "I died, bled out within seconds."

"What! NO!" Several classmates cried out in disbelief and rejection.

"Uh… But you can't have died." Denki objected. "You're still here, right?"

"The quirks." Momo spoke out. She felt all eyes turn toward her, but paid them no heed. Her mind was shifting and compiling all of the data she knew, trying to work through this complicated problem. "There were more than one unidentified quirk user that day, wasn't there? An empath quirk that affected everyone in the USJ. A water or gravity quirk that caused the water to rise out of the pool. A green light or laser quirk that shattered the roof. There were obviously several very powerful quirks at work where you were. There must have been another quirk we have not considered which helped keep you from dying."

"Kero," Tsuyu shook her head. "I died, completely and fully."

"Y-you sure?" Asked Sero.

"I saw death."

Everyone jerked back, confusion and even disbelief displayed on their face. Momo felt her own brows crinkle together as she grappled with what Tsuyu said. She wanted to believe her friend, but realistically the frog girl had probably been hallucinating do to blood loss and shock.

"How did you know it was a spirit of death you saw?" Tokoyami asked, the seriousness in his voice startled Momo.

"There was this dark being, kero." Tsuyu answered, her hands were no longer the only part of her trembling. "Almost like a shadow but not. He- it- the spirit appeared in front of me and I just knew, kero. This was my death. The spirit was there to take me away."

"Creepy," Denki whispered. Everyone else remained silent, waiting uneasily for Tsuyu's next words.

"But there was somethi- someone else there." Tsuyu went on. "A green soul."

"You mean the green light quirk user?" Kirishima asked.

Tsuyu shook her head again. "No, kero. It was not a quirk. The light, the person, was a soul. No body. Just a form. He- he was a boy with green hair and green eyes and this gentle green glow… or aura. He was crying for me. I could read his emotions from his aura… No, kero. That's not right. It was more like I felt what he felt. He was so devastated, so filled with self hate and guilt. But it was not his fault, kero. I knew that. I tried to tell him that, to comfort him."

"Then he grabbed my hand, and I was filled with a new emotion. Hope. He was hoping to still be able to save me."

"The ghost touched you without evil intent?" Shiozaki gasped. "That is truly a miracle."

"You think this guy was a ghost?" Shoji asked.

"Yes," Tsuyu said. "That is what I think he was. I have been calling him Midori Yurei in my head. He was not alive and definitely a spirit, yet I could tell he was human like me, kero."

"I knew it!" Denki crowd victoriously. "Ghosts are totally real! We should totally start a ghost hunters guild or something. I bet-"

Denki was cut off by everyone, eager to hear the rest of Tsuyu's story, shushing him.

Tsuyu gnawed at her lip, then began again. "It was while I was basking in Midori Yurei's hope that death spoke."

"Death spoke to you?" Shouto Todoroki, who had stayed silent and distant throughout this entire morning, spoke up with an air of heavy scepticism. Momo felt her own brand of scepticism burning within her chest.

Tsuyu turned to stare Todoroki straight in the face. "No, kero. Not to me. To Midori Yurei."

"What did the _other_ say?" Tokoyami asked in a reverent tone.

"Yeah!" Hagakure quaked breathlessly. "What did death say?"

"The spirit called out the soul's name and told him he could not save me. That I was meant to die."

"But you're alive, so obviously you weren't meant to." Kirishima declared, his voice taking on a defensive tone.

"I was meant to die." Tsuyu countered, voice as flat and monotone as Momo had ever heard her. "I am sure of it. I do not know how I know this, kero. I just do. Even as death was speaking to Midori Yurei, it was calling me. I could feel something within me responding. I think… I think death was directly calling my soul."

"But the green-spirit-soul-boy saved you, right?" Sero asked. "That's where you're going with this story, aren't you?"

"He did, kero. Despite what death was saying Midori Yurei offered me his hand, and a promise. I knew that if I took his offer, somehow he would save me. So I grabbed hold. Things are blurry after that, but when I came to I was in the hospital."

There was a moment of silence, then Todoroki questioned darkly, "You really expect us to believe this?"

"Yes, kero. Everything I have told you is the truth." Tsuyu began to look everyone everyone in the eye one at a time. "You all believe me, don't you kero? You know my character. You all know I would not lie."

Taking a deep breath, Momo leaned toward her friend. Making sure to keep her voice gentle and understanding, she spoke. "Of course we do not think you are lying, Tsuyu-chan. But do remember you lost a lot of blood and were in shock. You would have been experience a severe lack of oxygen to your brain, which would affect how your mind was processing. Many with severe injuries and traumatic experiences like you experienced intense illusions. I do not doubt that Midori Yurei and your death spirit were real, in a fashion."

"The death guy was probably one of the villains who escaped with that hand covered leader." Jirou suggested.

"I've kinda been thinking a vigilante snuck in during all the commotion and teleported you to the hospital." Sero admitted.

Tsuyu glared hard at Momo, then turned to look at the others. For once her placid gaze seemed to burn. "I know what I experienced. Do you believe me or not?"

"I know you speak the truth." Shiozaki declared, her thorned hair writhing with emotion. Tokoyami nodded in agreement.

"Come on guys. It totally makes sense!" Denki defended.

"It really doesn't." Jirou snapped.

"I believe you Tsuyu." Kirishima, still by her side, stated with much conviction.

Everyone else remained silent, doubt and discomfort seen plainly through their body language. Tsuyu looked to each person. When those deep placid pools caught Momo's own dark almond opals, Momo knew there was no way to hide the truth from her classmates. Tsuyu could see, clear as a cloudless blue sky, that Momo did not believe her.

But really, how could her classmate expect Momo to believe such a tale. And what is more, how could Tsuyu believe it. Before this Momo would have considered Tsuyu one of the most grounded and logical minded of her fellow peers. Tsuyu should know already that what she saw was the result of trauma and low blood pressure. And yet it was obvious that Tsuyu believed the near death illusions.

Sighing heavily, Tsuyu nodded once in acceptance of her classmates doubts. Then she opened up her bag and pulled out a folder.

"I did not expect you all to believe me." Tsuyu admitted as she flipped the folder open to reveal several articles. "That is why I brought evidence."

"Evidence? Really." Jirou raised an eyebrow at the frog girl. Still, just like everyone, she leaned closer to the folder to see what Tsuyu had found.

"Remember I said that the dark spirit called out the ghost's name? I looked him up and this is what I found."

The crowd shifted and Momo was able to spot a few of the papers.

There were several grainy photos. Most seemed centered around school events, though they had been cropped to focus in on a middle schooler with unruly dark green mop of hair and a nervous smile.

Momo also spotted a small news article proudly displayed its title in dark ink: **Quirkless Middle Schooler Unable to Defend Himself Against Villain Attack**.

But what really caught Momo was a black and white photo of the same messy haired student, a large smile beaming brightly up at any who cared to look. It was an obituary for a boy named Midoriya Izuku.

Momo scanned the black blocky words, heart sinking as she took in the tragic tale of a middle schooler's strangulation at the hands of a villain.

"This is him." Tsuyu said, hands lingering over one of the coloured pictures where the boys green gaze seemed to stare straight out at them. "This is who I saw that day at the USJ. He was a real person with real life, but he died over a year ago."

It didn't make sense. None of it made any sense to Momo. Either Tsuyu was lying and this was all a huge, convoluted, and absolutely pointless prank….

Or everything Tsuyu said was true.

But it could not be. Ghosts were not real. Death was not some personified spirit. This all had to be connected to a quirk. But this boy did not have a quirk. Unless Tsuyu purposely chose this random student to debunk that potential argument. But that just meant Momo would have to believe Tsuyu was pranking them all. Which she wasn't, because Tsuyu did not prank. And even those who did (like Denki) would never go this far with something this serious.

Momo still held onto the threadbare concept that Tsuyu had hallucinated it all. But how than had she been saved? Who had been responsible for those strange quirks? And where had Tsuyu pulled this Midoriya Izuku from?

"He looks kinda plain for someone who turned into a ghost." Denki said, instantly receiving a swat at the back of his head from Jirou.

"Seriously Denki, show some respect." Jirou gripped, even as she glared down at the improbable spread of Tsuyu's evidence.

"I think he's manly." Kirishima declared. "I mean, the guys saved Tsuyu from beyond the gra- wait!" The red haired student interrupted himself. He grabbed the news article and madly tapped at three of the words from the text. "Aldera Junior High! Katsuki, isn't this your old school?"

All eyes turned toward their resident abrasive and aggressive lone wolf. Unlike everyone else Bakugou had not moved to see Tsuyu's evidence, but remained hunched belligerent in his seat.

"Huh!" Bakugou bit out. "What the hell are you-"

Silence. No pop of explosion, no crack of knuckles. No shifting of cloth, not even the sound of breath.

Only silence. And stillness.

Bakugou's whole body was suspended in stillness as if some quirk had turned him to stone. Only his eyes shone with life, red blazing brighter than Momo had ever seen them burn.

Everyone else in the room stuttered into immobility and quite as well. Fidgeting limbs eased into the still atmosphere. Voices tapered off gently against the silence. Momo had no idea what to do or say. Neither did anyone else. All waited and watched Bakugou uncertainty.

The stillness broke with the crash of knee caps against concrete floor, Bakugou's legs losing all ability to hold himself up.

The silence shattered against a hoarse, desperate whispered word, "Deku."

.  
.

* * *

 **Additional Scene:**

 **Sero- "Hey guys? Uh- Not that I'm complaining considering- everything… but shouldn't Aizawa Sensei have showed up a while ago? Homeroom is almost over."**

 **Outside Classroom- *A large yellow caterpillar is sprawled out in the hallway. There was a moment where the caterpillar considered breaking free from its chrysalis state and become a bedraggled-scruffy-haired-hobo-man. But hearing what was coming out of his classroom ixnayed that plan real fast.***

 ***So no. No grumpy-sleep-deprived-Aizawa today. Just yellow-do-not-desturb-on-pain-of-death-sleeping-bag.***

* * *

 **So remember when I claimed I would be posting a new chapter once a month?**

 **Yeah, I don't remember that either. Must never have happened.**

 **Good talk.**

 **( ;¬_¬)**


End file.
